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TEbe take EnctUab Classtca 



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Inttrtictor in English in The University of Chicane 



Gbe Hake j£nglisb Classics 

THE 

LAY OF THE LAST MINSTREL 

BY / 

SIR WALTER SCOTT 



WITH AN INTRODUCTION 

BY 

WILLIAM VAUGHN MOODY, A.M. 

INSTRUCTOR IN ENGLISH. THE UNIVERSITY OF CHICAGO 

AND A GLOSSARY AND NOTES 

RV 

MARY R. WILLARD 

INSTRUCTOR IN ENGLISH, HIGH SCHOOL, JAMESTOWN, N. Y. 



CHICAGO 

SCOTT, FORESMAN ANT) COMPANY 

1899 






tx- 



90 



Copyright 1899, 
By SCOTT, FORESMAN AND COMPANY 

rwo copies receives. 



- 

^" 141899 






CONTENTS 

PAGE 

Introduction 

I. Life of Scott . 9 

II. Scott's Place in the Romantic Movement 39 

III. The Lay of the Last Minstrel . . .46 

Text 01 

Notes . 183 

Glossary . - . „ . 201 



I. LIFE OF SCOTT 



Walter Scott was born in Edinburgh, August 15, 
1771, of an ancient Scotch clan numbering in its 
time many a hard rider and good fighter, and 
more than one of these petty chieftains, half -shep- 
herd and half -robber, who made good the winter 
inroads into their stock of beeves by spring forays 
and cattle drives across the English Border. 
Scott's great-grandfather was the famous " Bear die" 
of Harden, so called because after the exile of the 
Stuart sovereigns he swore never to cut his beard 
until they were reinstated; and several degrees 
farther back he could point to a still more famous 
figure, "Auld Wat of Harden," who with his fair 
dame, the Flower of Yarrow, is mentioned in the 
Lay of the Last Minstrel. The first member of 
the clan to abandon country life and take up a 
sedentary profession, was Scott's father, who 
settled in Edinburgh as Writer to the Signet, a 
position corresponding in Scotland to that of 
attorney or solicitor in England. The character of 
this father, stern, scrupulous, Calvmistic, with a 
high sense of ceremonial dignity and a punctilious 
regard for the honorable conventions of life, united 
with the wilder ancestral strain to make Scot! what 

9 



10 INTRODUCTION 

he was. From "Auld Wat" and "Bear die" came his 
high spirit, his rugged manliness, his chivalric 
ideals; from the Writer to the Signet came that 
power of methodical labor which made him a giant 
among the literary workers of his day, and that 
delicate sense of responsibility which gave his 
private life its remarkable sweetness and beauty. 

At the age of eighteen months, Scott was seized 
with a teething fever which settled in his right leg 
and retarded its growth to such an extent that he 
was slightly lame for the rest of his life. Possibly 
this affliction was a blessing in disguise, since it is 
not improbable that Scott's love of active adventure 
would have led him into the army or the navy, if 
he had not been deterred by a bodily impediment ; 
in which case, though English history might have 
been a gainer, English literature would certainly 
have been immeasurably a loser. In spite of his lame- 
ness, the child grew strong enough to be sent on a 
long visit to his grandfather 's farm at Sandyknowe ; 
and here, lying among the sheep on the windy 
downs, playing about the romantic ruins of Smail- 
holm Tower, 1 scampering through the heather on 
a tiny Shetland pony, or listening to stories of the 
thrilling past told by the old women of the farm, 
he drank in sensations which strengthened both 
the hardiness and the romanticism of his nature. 
A story is told of his being found in the fields 
during a thunder storm, clapping his hands at each 

1 See Scott's ballad 77? e Eve of St. John 



LIFE OF SCOTT 11 

flash of lightning, and shouting "Bonny! Bonny !" 
— a bit of infantile intrepidity which makes more 
acceptable a story of another sort illustrative of his 
mental precocity. A lady entering his mother's 
room, found him reading aloud a description of a 
shipwreck, accompanying the words with excited 
comments and gestures. "There's the mast 
gone," he cried, "crash it goes; they will all 
perish!" The lady entered into his agitation with 
tact, and on her departure, he told his mother 
that he liked their visitor, because "she was a 
virtuoso, like himself." To her amused inquiry 
as to what a virtuoso might be, he replied: 
"Don't ye know? why, 'tis one who wishes to and 
will know everything." 

As a boy at school in Edinburgh and in Kelso, 
and afterwards as a student at the University and 
an apprentice in his father's law office, Scott took 
his own way to become a "virtuoso ;" a rather queer 
way it must sometimes have seemed to his good 
preceptors. He refused point-blank to learn 
Greek, and cared little for Latin. His scholarship 
was so erratic that he glanced meteor-like from 
the head to the foot of his classes and back again, 
according as luck gave or withheld the question to 
which his highly selective memory had retained the 
answer. But outside of school hours he was 
intensely at work to "know everything," so far as 
"everything" came within the bounds of his 
special tastes. Before he was ten years old lie had 



12 INTRODUCTION 

begun to collect chap-books and ballads. As he 
grew older he read omnivorously in romance and 
history; at school he learned French for the sole 
purpose of knowing at first hand the fascinating 
cycles of old French romance; a little later he 
mastered Italian in order to read Dante and 
Ariosto, and to his schoolmaster's indignation 
stoutly championed the claim of the latter poet to 
superiority over Homer ; a little later he acquired 
Spanish and read Don Quixote in the original. 
With such efforts, however, considerable as they 
were for a boy who passionately loved a "bicker" 
in the streets, and who was famed among his 
comrades for bravery in climbing the perilous 
"kittle nine stanes" on Castle Eock, — he was not 
content. Nothing more conclusively shows the 
genuineness of Scott's romantic feeling than his 
willingness to undergo severe mental drudgery in 
pursuit of knowledge concerning the old storied 
days which had enthralled his imagination. It was 
no moonshine sentimentality which kept him hour 
after hour and day after day in the Advocate's 
Library, poring over musty manuscripts, decipher- 
ing heraldic devices, tracing genealogies, and 
unraveling obscure points of Scottish history. By 
the time he was twenty-one he had made himself, 
almost unconsciously, an expert paleographer and 
antiquarian, whose assistance was sought by pro- 
fessional workers in those branches of knowledge. 
Carlyle has charged against Scott that he poured 



LIFE OF SCOTT 13 

out his vast floods of poetry and romance without 
preparation or forethought; that his production 
was always impromptu, and rooted in no sufficient 
past of acquisition. The charge cannot stand. 
From his earliest boyhood until his thirtieth year, 
when he began his brilliant career as poet and 
novelist, his life was one long preparation, — very 
individual and erratic preparation, perhaps, but 
none the less earnest and fruitful. 

In 1792, Scott, then twenty-one years old, was 
admitted a member of the faculty of advocates of 
Edinburgh. During the five years which elapsed 
between this date and his marriage, his life was full 
to overflowing of fun and adventure, rich with genial 
companionship, and with experience of human 
nature in all its wild and tame varieties. Ostensibly 
he was a student of law, and he did, indeed, devote 
some serious attention to the mastery of his pro- 
fession. But the dry formalities of legal life his 
keen humor would not allow him to take quite 
seriously. On the day when he was called to the 
bar, while waiting his turn among the other young 
advocates, he turned to his friend, William Clark, 
who had been called with him, and whispered, 
mimicking the Highland lasses who used to stand at 
the Cross of Edinburgh to be hired for the 
harvest: "We've stood here an hour by the Tron. 
hinny, and deil a ane has speered 1 our price." 
Though Scott never made a legal reputation, either 

1 Asked. 



14 INTRODUCTION 

as pleader at the bar or as an authority upon legal 
history and principles, it cannot be doubted that 
his experience in the Edinburgh courts was of 
immense benefit to him. In the first place, his 
study of the Scotch statutes, statutes which had 
taken form very gradually under the j>ressure of 
changing national conditions, gave him an insight 
into the politics and society of the past not other- 
wise to have been obtained. Of still more value, 
perhaps, was the association with his young com- 
panions in the profession, and daily contact 
with the racy personalities which traditionally 
haunt all courts of law, and particularly Scotch 
courts of law : the first association kept him from 
the affectation and sentimentality which is the 
bane of the youthful romanticist ; and the second 
enriched his memory with many an odd figure after- 
ward to take its place, clothed in the colors of a 
great dramatic imagination, upon the stage of his 
stories. 

Added to these experiences, there were others 
equally calculated to enlarge his conception of 
human nature. Not the least among these he found 
in the brilliant literary and artistic society of 
Edinburgh, to which his mother's social position 
gave him entrance. Here, when only a lad, he 
met Eobert Burns, then the pet and idol of 
the fashionable coteries of the capital. Here he 
heard Henry Mackenzie deliver a lecture on Ger- 
man literature which turned his attention to the 



LIFE OF SCOTT IS 

romantic poetry of Germany and led directly to his 
first attempts at ballad-writing. But much more 
vital than any or all of these influences, were those 
endless walking-tours which alone or in company 
with a boon companion he took over the neighbor- 
ing country-side, — care-free, roystering expeditions, 
which he afterwards immortalized as Dandie 
Dinmont's "Liddesdale raids" in Guy Manner- 
ing. Thirty miles across country as the crow flies, 
with no objective point and no errand, a village 
inn or a shepherd's hut at night, with a crone to 
sing them an old ballad over the fire, or a group 
of hardy dalesmen to welcome them with stories 
and carousal, — these were blithe adventurous days 
such as could not fail to ripen Scott's already 
ardent nature, and store his memory with genial 
knowledge. The account of Dandie Dinmont 
given by Mr. Shortreed may be taken as a picture, 
only too true in some of its touches, of Scott in 
these youthful escapades: "Eh me, . . sic an 
endless fund of humour and drollery as he had 
then wi' him. Never ten yards but we were either 
laughing or roaring and singing. Wherever we 
stopped how brawlie he suited himser to every- 
body! lie aye did as the lave did; never made 
himser the great man or took onv airs in the com- 
pany. I've seen him in a' moods in these jaunts, 
grave and gay, daft and serious, sober and drunk 
— (this, however, even in our wildesl rambles, was 
\n\i rare) — but drunk or sober, he was aye the 



16 INTRODUCTION 

gentleman. He looked excessively heavy and 
stupid when he was foil, but he was never out o' 
gude humour." After this, we are not surprised 
to hear that Scott's father told him disgustedly 
that he was better fitted to be a fiddling pedlar, a 
i; gangrel scrape-gut," than a respectable attorney. 
As a matter of fact, however, behind the mad 
pranks and the occasional excesses there was a very 
serious purpose in all this scouring of the country- 
side. Scott was picking up here and there, from 
the old men and women with whom he hobnobbed, 
antiquarian material of an invaluable kind, bits 
of local history, immemorial traditions and super- 
stitions, and, above all, precious ballads which had 
been handed down for generations among the 
peasantry. These ballads, thus precariously trans- 
mitted, it was Scott's ambition to gather together 
and preserve, and he spared no pains or fatigue to 
come at any scrap of ballad literature of whose 
existence he had an inkling. Meanwhile, he was 
enriching heart and imagination for the work that 
was before him. So that here also, though in the 
hair-brained and heady way of youth, he was 
engaged in his task of preparation. 

Scott has told us that it was his reading of Don 
Quixote which determined him to be an author; 
but he was first actually excited to composition in 
another way. This was by hearing recited a ballad 
of the German poet Burger, entitled Lenore, in 
which a skeleton lover carries off his bride to a 



LIFE OF SCOTT 17 

wedding in the land of death. Mr. Hutton 
remarks upon the curiousness of the fact that a 
piece of "raw super naturalism" like this should 
have appealed so strongly to a mind as healthy and 
sane as Scott's. So it was, however. He could 
not rid himself of the fascination of the piece until 
he had translated it, and published it, together 
with another translation from the same author. 
One stanza at least of this first effort of Scott 
sounds a note characteristic of his poetry : 

Tramp ! tramp ! along the land they rode, 
Splash ! splash ! along the sea ; 
The scourge is red, the spur drops blood, 
The flashing pebbles flee. 

Here we catch the trumpet-like clang and staccato 
tramp of verse which he was soon to use in a way 
to thrill his generation. This tiny pamphlet of 
verse, Scott's earliest publication, appeared in 1796. 
Soon after, he met Monk Lewis, then famous as a 
purveyor to English palates of the crude horrors 
which German romanticism had just ceased to 
revel in. Lewis was engaged in compiling a book 
of supernatural stories and poems under the title 
of Tales of Wonder, and asked Scott to contribute. 
Scott wrote for this book three long ballads — 
Glenfinlas, Cadyoio Castle, and The Gray Brother. 
Though tainted with the conventional diction of 
eighteenth century verse, these ballads are not un- 
impressive pieces of work; the second named, 
especially, shows a kind and degree of romantic 



18 INTRODUCTION 

imagination such as his later poetry rather sub- 
stantiated than newly revealed. 

ii 

In the following year, 1797, Scott married a Miss 
Charpentier, daughter of a French refugee. She 
was not his first love, that place having been 
usurped by a Miss Stuart Belches, for whom Scott 
had felt perhaps the only deep passion of his life, 
and memory of whom was to come to the surface 
touchingly in his old age. Miss Charpentier, or 
Carpenter, as she was called, with her vivacity and 
quaint foreign speech " caught his heart on the re- 
bound;-' there can be no doubt that, in spite of a 
certain shallowness of character, she made him a 
good wife, and that his affection for her deepened 
steadily to the end. The young couple went to 
live at Lasswade, a village near Edinburgh, on the 
Esk. Scott, in whom the proprietary instinct was 
always very strong, took great pride in the pretty 
little cottage. He made a dining-table for it with 
his own hands, planted saplings in the yard, and 
drew together two willow-trees at the gate into a 
kind of arch, surmounted by a cross made of two 
sticks. "After I had constructed this," he 
says, "mamma (Mrs. Scott) and I both of us 
thought it so fine that we turned out to see it by 
moonlight, and walked backwards from it to the 
cottage door, in admiration of our magnificence and 
its picturesque effect." It would have been well 



LIFE OF SCOTT 19 

indeed for them both if their pleasures of proprie- 
torship could always have remained so touchingly 
simple. 

Now that lie was married, Scott was forced to 
look a little more sharply to his fortunes. He 
applied himself with more determination to the 
law. In 1799 he became deputy-sheriff of Selkirk- 
shire, with a salary of three hundred pounds, Avhich 
placed him at least beyond the reach of want. lie 
began to look more and more to literature as a 
means of supplementing his income. His ballads 
in the Tales of Wonder had gained him some 
reputation; this he increased in 1802 by the 
publication, under the title Border Minstrelsy, of 
the ballads which he had for several years been 
collecting, collating, and richly annotating. 
Meanwhile, he was looking about for a congenial 
subject upon which to try his hand in a larger way 
than he had as yet adventured. Such a subject 
came to him at last in a manner calculated to 
enlist all his enthusiasm in its treatment, for it 
was given him by the Countess of Dalkeith, wife 
of the heir -apparent to the dukedom of Buccleugh. 
The ducal house of Buccleugh stood at the head of 
the clan Scott, and toward its representative the 
poet always held himself in an altitude of feudal 
reverence. The Duke of Buccleugh was his 
"chief," entitled to demand from him both passive 
loyalty and active service; so, at least, Scott loved 
to interpret [heir relationship, making effective in 



20 INTRODUCTION 

his own case a feudal sentiment which had else- 
where somewhat lapsed. He especially loved to 
think of himself as the bard of his clan, a modern 
representative of those rude poets whom the Scott- 
ish chiefs once kept as a part of their household to 
chant the exploits of the clan. Xothing could 
have pleased his fancy more, therefore, than a 
request on the part of the lady of his chief to treat 
a subject of her assigning, namely, the dark mis- 
chief-making of a dwarf or goblin who had strayed 
from his unearthly master and attached himself as 
page to a human household. The subject fell in 
with the poet's reigning taste for strong super- 
naturalism. Gilpin Horner, the goblin page, 
though he proved in the sequel a difficult character 
to put to poetic uses, was a figure grotesque and 
eerie enough to appeal even to Monk Lewis. At 
first Scott thought of treating the subject" in 
ballad-form, but the scope of treatment was 
gradually enlarged by several circumstances. To 
begin with, he chanced upon a copy of Goethe's 
Gotz von BerlicTdngen, and the history of that rob- 
ber baron suggested to him the feasibility of tin-ow- 
ing the same vivid light upon the old Border life of 
his ancestors as Goethe had thrown upon that of the 
Ehine barons. This led him to subordinate the 
part played by the goblin page in the proposed 
story, which was now widened to include elaborate 
pictures of mediaeval life and manners, and to lay 
the scene in the castle of Branksome, formerly the 



LIFE OF SCOTT 21 

stronghold of Scott's and the Duke of Buccleugh's 
ancestors. The verse form into which the story- 
was thrown was due to a still more accidental 
circumstance, i. e., Scott's overhearing Sir John 
Stoddard recite a fragment of Coleridge's unpub- 
lished poem Christabel. The placing of the 
story in the mouth of an old harper fallen upon 
evil days, was a happy afterthought; besides 
making a beautiful framework for the main poem, 
it enabled the author to escape criticism for any 
violent innovations of style, since these could 
always be attributed to the rude and wild school 
of poetry to which the harper was supposed to 
belong. In these ways the Lay of the Last Min- 
strel gradually developed in its present form. 
Upon its publication in 1805, it achieved an 
immediate success. The vividness of its descriptive 
passages, the buoyant rush of its metre, the deep 
romantic glow suffusing all its pages, took by 
storm a public familiar to weariness with the 
decorous abstractions of the eighteenth century 
poets. The first edition, a sumptuous quarto, was 
exhausted in a few weeks; an octavo edition of 
fifteen hundred was sold out within the year; and 
before 1830, forty-four thousand copies were 
needed to supply the popular demand. Scott 
received in all something under eight hundred 
pounds for the Lay, a small amount when con- 
trasted with his gains from subsequent poems, but 
a sum so unusual nevertheless that he determined 



22 INTRODUCTION 

forthwith to devote as much time to literature as 
he could spare from his legal duties ; those he still 
placed foremost, for until near the close of his life 
he clung to his adage that literature was "a good 
staff, but a poor crutch. " 

A year before the publication of the Lay, Scott 
had removed to the small country seat of Ashestiel, 
in Selkirkshire, seven miles from the nearest town, 
Selkirk, and several miles from any neighbor. In 
the introductions to the various cantos of Harmion 
he has given us a delightful picture of Ashestiel 
and its surroundings, — the swift Grlenkinnon dash- 
ing through the estate in a deep ravine, on its way 
to join the Tweed; behind the house the rising 
hills beyond which lay the lovely scenery of the 
Yarrow. The eight years (1804-1812) at Ashestiel 
were the serenest, and probably the happiest, of 
Scott's life. Here he wrote his two greatest poems, 
Marmion and the Lady of the Lake. His mornings 
he spent at his desk, always with a faithful hound 
at his feet watching the tireless hand as it threw off 
sheet after sheet of manuscript to make up the 
day's stint. By one o'clock he was, as he said, 
"his own man," free to spend the remaining hours 
of light with his children, his horses, and his dogs, 
or to indulge himself in his life-long passion for 
tree-planting. His robust and healthy nature 
made him excessively fond of all out-of-door sports, 
especially riding, in which he was daring to fool- 
hardiness. It is a curious fact, noted by Lockhart, 



LIFE OF SCOTT 23 

that many of Scott's senses were blunt; he could 
scarcely, for instance, tell one wine from another 
by the taste, and once sat quite unconscious at his 
table while his guests were manifesting extreme 
uneasiness over the approach of a too-long-kept 
haunch of venison; but his sight was unusually 
keen, as his hunting exploits proved. His little 
son once explained his father's popularity by saying 
that "it was him that commonly saw the hare 
sitting." What with hunting, fishing, salmon- 
spearing by torchlight, gallops over the hills into 
the Yarrow country, planting and transplanting of 
his beloved trees, Scott's life at Ashestiel, during 
the hours when he was "his own man," was a very 
full and happy one. 

Unfortunately, he had already embarked in an 
enterprise which was destined to overthrow his 
fortunes just when they seemed fairest. While at 
school in Kelso he had become intimate with a 
school fellow named James Ballantyne, and later, 
when Ballantyne set up a small printing house in 
Kelso, lie had given him his earliest poems to 
print. After the issue of the Border Minstrelsy, 
the typographical excellence of which attracted 
attention even in London, he set Ballantyne up in 
business in Edinburgh, secretly entering the linn 
himself as silent partner. The good sale of the 
Lay had given the firm an excellent start; but. 
more matter was presently needed to feed the press. 
To supply it, Scott undertook and completed at 



24 INTRODUCTION 

Ashestiel four enormous tasks of editing, — the 
complete works of Dry den and of Swift, the 
Somers' Tracts, and the Sadler State Papers. The 
success of these editions, and the subsequent 
enormous sale of Scott's poems and novels, would 
have kept the concern solvent in spite of Bal- 
lantyne 's complete incapacity for business, but in 
1809 Scott plunged recklessly into another and 
more serious venture. A dispute with Constable, 
the veteran publisher and bookseller, aggravated 
by the harsh criticism delivered upon Marmion by 
Francis Jeffrey, editor of the Edinburgh Review, 
Constable's magazine, determined Scott to set up 
in connection with the Ballantyne press a rival 
bookselling concern, and a rival magazine, to be 
called the Quarterly Eevieic. The project was a 
daring one, in view of Constable's great ability 
and resources; to make it foolhardy to madness 
Scott selected to manage the new business a brother 
of James Ballantyne, a dissipated little buffoon, with 
about as much business ability and general calibre 
of character as is connoted by the name which 
Scott coined for him, "Rigdumfunnidos." The 
selection of such a man for such a place betray> 
in Scott's eminently sane and balanced mind a 
curious strain of impracticality, to say the least; 
indeed, we are almost constrained to feel with his 
harsher critics that it betrays something worse than 
defective judgment, — defective character. His 
greatest failing, if failing it can be called, was 



LIFE OF scott 

pride. Ho could not endure even the mild 
dictations of a competent publisher, as La shown 
by his answer to a letter written by one of them 
proposing some Balaried work ; he replied curtly 
that he was a "black Bussar" of literature, and 
not to be put to such tame service. Probably this 
haughty dislike of dictation, this imperious desire 
to patronize rather than be patronized, led him to 
choose inferior men with whom to enter into 
business relations. It" so, lie paid for the fault so 
dearly that it is hard for a biographer to press the 
issue against him. 

For the present, however, the wind o( fortune 
was blowing fair, and all the storm clouds were 
below the horizon. In 1808 Marmion appeared, 
and was greeted with an enthusiasm which made 
the unprecedented reception of the Lay seem luke- 
warm in comparison. Matmion contains nothing 
which was not plainly foreshadowed in the / 
but the hand of the poet has grown more sure, his 
descriptive effects are less crude anil amateurish, 
the narrative proceeds with a steadier march, the 
music has gained in volume and in martial vigor. 
An anecdote is told by Mr. I hit ton which will 
serve as a type of a hundred others illustrative of 
the extraordinary hold which this poetry took tipon 
the minds of ordinary men. k 'l have heard, n he 
I, "of two old men — complete stranger- passing 
each other on a dark London night, when one of 

them happened to he repeating to himself, jus! a- 



26 INTRODUCTION 

Campbell did to the hackney coachmen of the 
North Bridge of Edinburgh, the last lines of the 
account of Flodden Field in M arm ion, 'Charge, 
Chester, charge,' when suddenly a reply came out 
of the darkness, 'On, Stanley, on,' whereupon 
they finished the death of Marmion between them, 
took off their hats to each other, and parted, laugh- 
ing." The Lady 9f the Lake, which followed in 
little more than a year, was received with the same 
popular delight, and with even greater respect on 
the part of the critics. Even the formidable Jeff- 
rey, who was supposed to dine off slaughtered au- 
thors as the Giant in Jack and the Beanstalk dined 
off young Englishmen, keyed his voice to unwonted 
praise. The influx of tourists into the Trossachs, 
where the scene of the poem was laid, was so great 
as seriously to embarrass the mail coaches, until at 
last the posting charges had to be raised in order 
to diminish the traffic. Far away in Spain, at a 
trying moment of the Peninsular campaign, Sir 
Adam Ferguson, posted on a point of ground 
exposed to the enemy's fire, read to his men as 
they lay prostrate on the ground the passage from 
the Lady of the Lake describing the combat 
between Eoderick Dhu's Highlanders and the 
forces of the Earl of Mar; and "the listening 
soldiers only interrupted him by a joyous huzza 
when the French shot struck the bank close above 
them." Such tributes — and they were legion — to 
the power of his poetry to move adventurous and 



LIFE OF SCOTT 27 

hardy men, must have been intoxicating to Scott; 
there is small wonder that the success of his 
poems gave him, as he says, "such a heeze as 
almost lifted him off his feet." 



in 

Scott's modesty was not in danger, but so far as 
his prudence was concerned, his success did really 
lift him off his feet. In 1812, still more encour- 
aged thereto by entering upon the emoluments of 
the office of Clerk of Sessions, the duties of which 
he had performed for six years without pay, he 
purchased Abbotsford, an estate on the Tweed, 
adjoining that of the Duke of Buccleugh, his kins- 
man, and near the beautiful ruins of Melrose 
Abbey. Here he began to carry out the dream 
of his life, to found a territorial family which 
should augment the power and fame of his clan. 
Beginning with a modest farm house and a farm of 
a hundred acres, he gradually bought, planted, and 
})i lilt, until the farm became a manorial domain 
and the farm house a castle. He had not gone far 
in this work before he began to realize that the 
returns from his poetry would never suffice to meet 
such demands as would thus be made upon his 
purse. Byron's star was in the ascendant, and 
bef ore its baleful magnificence Scott's milder and 
more genial light visibly paled. He was himself 
the first to declare, with characteristic generosity, 



9 



28 INTRODUCTION 

that the younger poet had "bet" 1 him at his own 
craft. As Carlyle says, "he had held the 
sovereignty for some half -score of years, a compar- 
atively long lease of it, and now the time seemed 
come for dethronement, for abdication. An 
unpleasant business; which, however, he held 
himself ready, as a brave man will, to transact 
with composure and in silence." 

But, as it proved, there was no need for resigna- 
tion. The reign of metrical romance, brilliant but 
brief, was past, or nearly so. But what of prose 
romance, which long ago, in picking out Don 
Qttixote from the puzzling Spanish, he had 
promised himself he would one day attempt? 
With some such questioning of the Fates, Scott 
drew from his desk the sheets of a story begun 
seven years before, and abandoned because of the 
success of the Lay of the Last Minstrel. This 
story he now completed, and published as Waverley 
in the spring of 1814, — an event "memorable in 
the annals of British literature; in the annals of 
British bookselling thrice and four times memor- 
able." The popularity of the metrical romances 
dwindled to insignificance before the enthusiasm 
with which this prose romance was received. 
A moment before quietly resolved to give up his 
place in the world's eye, and to live the life of an 
obscure country gentleman, Scott found himself 
launched once more on the tide of brave fortunes. 

1 Bested, got the better of. 



LIFE OF SCOTT 29 

The Ballantyne publishing and printing houses 
ceased to totter, and settled themselves on what 
seemed the firmest of foundations. At Abbots- 
ford, buying, planting, and building began on a 
greater scale than had ever been planned in its 
owner's most sanguine moments. 

The history of the next eleven years in Scott's 
life is the history, on the one hand, of the rapidly- 
appearing novels, of a fame gradually spreading 
outward from Great Britain until it covered the 
civilized world, — a fame increased rather than 
diminished by the incognito which the "author of 
Waverley" took great pains to preserve even after 
the secret had become an open one ; on the other 
hand, of the large-hearted, hospitable life at Abbots - 
ford, where, in spite of the importunities of curious 
and ill-bred tourists, bent on getting a glimpse of 
the "Wizard of the Xorth," and in spite of the 
enormous mass of work, literary and official, which 
Scott took upon himself to perform, the atmos- 
phere of country leisure and merriment was some- 
how miraculously preserved. This life of the 
hearty prosperous country laird was the one toward 
the realization of which all Scott's efforts were 
directed; it is worth while, therefore, to see as 
vividly as may be, what kind of life that was, that 
we may the better understand what kind of man 
he was who cared for it. The following extract 
from Lockhart's Life of Scott gives us at least one 
very characteristic aspect of the Abbotsford world: 



30 INTRODUCTION 

"It was a clear, bright September morning, with 
a sharpness in the air that doubled the animating 
influence of the sunshine ; and all was in readiness 
for a grand coursing-match on Newark Hill. The 
only guest who had chalked out other sport for 
himself was the staunehest of anglers, Mr. Eose; 
but he, too, was there on his slielty, armed with 
his salmon-rod and landing-net. . . . This little 
group of Waltonians, bound for Lord Somerville's 
preserve, remained lounging about, to witness the 
start of the mam cavalcade. Sir Walter, mounted 
on Sibyl, was marshalling the order of procession 
with a huge hunting-whip; and among a dozen 
frolicsome youths and maidens, who seemed dis- 
posed to laugh at all discipline, appeared, each on 
horseback, each as eager as the youngest sportsman 
in the troop, Sir Humphrey Davy, Dr. "Wollaston, 
and the patriarch of Scottish belles-lettres, Henry 
Mackenzie. . . . La^dlaw (the steward of Abbots- 
ford) on a strong-tailed wiry Highlander, yclept 
Hoddin Grey, which carried him nimbly and 
stoutly, although his feet almost touched the 
ground, was the adjutant. But the most pictur- 
esque figure was the illustrious inventor of the 
safety-lamp (Sir Humphrey Davy) ... a brown 
hat with flexible brim, surrounded with line upon 
line of catgut, and innumerable fly-hooks; jack- 
boots worthy of a Dutch smuggler, and a fustian 
surtout dabbled with the blood of salmon, made a 
fine contrast with the smart jacket, white-cord 
breeches, and well-polished jockey-boots of the less 
distinguished cavaliers about him. Dr. Wollaston 
was in black ; and with his noble serene dignity of 
countenance might have passed for a sporting 
archbishop. Mr. Mackenzie, at this time in the 
seventy -sixth year of his age, with a hat turned up 



LIFE OF SCOTT 31 

with green, green spectacles, green jacket, and long 
brown leathern gaiters buttoned upon his nether 
anatomy, wore a clog-whistle round his neck. . . 
Tom Purdie (one of Scott's servants) and his sub- 
alterns had preceded us by a few hours with all the 
grey-hounds that could be collected at Abbotsford, 
Darnick, and Melrose; but the giant Maida had 
remained as his master's orderly, and now 
gambolled about Sibyl Grey, barking for mere joy 
like a spaniel puppy. 

''The order of march had all been settled, when 
Scott's daughter Anne broke from the line, scream- 
ing with laughter, and exclaimed, 'Papa, papa, I 
knew you could never think of going without your 
pet !' Scott looked round, and I rather think there 
was a blush as well as a smile upon his face, when 
he perceived a little black pig frisking about his 
pony, evidently a self -elected addition to the 
party of the day. He tried to look stern, and 
cracked his whip at the creature, but was in a 
moment obliged to join in the general cheers. 
Poor piggy soon found a strap round its neck, 
and was dragged into the background ; Scott, 
watching the retreat, repeated with mock pathos 
the first verse of an old pastoral song — 

'What will I do gin my hoggie die? 
My joy, my pride, my hoggie! 
My only beast, I had na mae, 
And wow, but I was vogie ! ' 

— the cheers were redoubled — and the squadron 
moved on." 

Let us supplement this with one more picture, 
from the same hand, showing Scott in a little more 
intimate light. The passage was written in 1821, 
after Lockhart had married Scott's eldest daughter, 



32 INTRODUCTION 

and gone to spend the summer at Chiefswood, a 
cottage on the Abbotsf ord estate : 

"We were near enough Abbotsf ord to partake as 
often as we liked of its brilliant and constantly 
varying society; yet could do so without being 
exposed to the worry and exhaustion of spirit which 
the daily reception of new-comers entailed upon 
all the family, except Scott himself. But in 
truth, even he was not always proof against 
the annoyances connected with such a style of 
open house-keeping. . . . When sore beset 
at home in this way, he would every now and 
then discover that he had some very particular 
business to attend to on an outlying part of 
his estate, and craving the indulgence of 
his guests overnight, appear at the cabin in the 
glen before its inhabitants were astir in the morn- 
ing. The clatter of Sibyl Grey's hoofs, the yelp- 
ing of Mustard and Spice, and his own joyous 
shout of reveilUe under our windows, were the 
signal that he had burst his toils, and meant for 
that day to 'take his ease in his inn. ' On descend- 
ing, he was found to be seated with all his dogs and 
ours about him, under a spreading ash that over- 
shadowed half the bank between the cottage and 
the brook, pointing the edge of his woodman's 
axe, and listening to Tom Pur die's lecture touch- 
ing the plantation that most needed thinning. 
After breakfast he would take possession of a 
dressing-room upstairs, and write a chapter of 
The Pirate ; and then, having made up and des- 
patched his packet for Mr. Ballantyne, away to 
join Purdie wherever the foresters were at work 
. . . until it was time to rejoin bis own party at 
Abbotsford, or the quiet circle of the cottage. 
When his guests were few and friendly, lie often 



LIFE OF SCOTT 33 

made them come over and meet him at Chiefswood 
in a body towards evening. . . . He was ready 
with all sorts of devices to supply the wants of a 
narrow establishment; he used to delight par- 
ticularly in sinking the wine in a well under the 
brae ere he went out, and hauling up the basket 
just before dinner was announced, — this primitive 
device being, he said, what he had always practised 
when a young housekeeper, and in his opinion far 
superior in its results to any application of ice; 
and in the same spirit, whenever the weather was 
sufficiently genial, he voted for dining out of doors 
altogether." 

Few events of importance except the successive 
appearances of "our buiks," as Tom Purdie called 
his master's novels, and an occasional visit to 
London or the continent, intervened to break the 
busy monotony of this Abbotsford life. On one 
of these visits to London, Scott was invited to dine 
with the Prince Kegent, and when the prince 
became King George IV., in 1820, almost the 
first act of his reign was to create Scott a baronet. 
Scott accepted the honor gratefully, as coming, 
he said, "from the original source of all honor." 
There can well be two opinions as to whether this 
least admirable of English kings constituted a very 
prime fountain of honor, judged by democratic 
standards ; but to Scott's mind, such an imputation 
would have been next to sacrilege. The feudal 
bias of his mind, strong to start with, had been 
strengthened by his long sojourn among the visions 
of a feudal past ; the ideals of feudalism were living 



N INTRODUCTION 

realities to him; and he accepted knighthood from 
his king's hand in exactly the same spirit which 
determined his attitude of humility towards his 
"chief," the Duke of Buccleugh, and which 
impelled him to exhaust his genius in the effort to 
build up a great family estate. 

There were already signs that the enormous bur- 
den of work under which he seemed to move so 
lightly, was telling on him. Tlxe Bride of Lammer- 
i\ The Legend, of Montrose, and Ivanhoe, had all 
of them been dictated between screams of pain, 
wrung from his lips by a chronic cramp of the 
stomach. By the time he reached Redgauntlet and 
>^, Ronan's We'L there began to be heard faint 
murmurings of discontent from his public, hints 
that he was writing too fast, and that the noble wine 
he had poured them for so long wa.s growing at last a 
trifle watery. To add to these causes of uneasiness, 
the commercial ventures in which he was interested 
drifted again into a precarious stare. He had him- 
self fallen into the bad habit of forestalling the 
gains from his novels by heavy drafts on his pub- 
lishers, and the example thus set was followed 
faithfully by John Ballantyne. Scott's good humor 
and his partner's bad judgment saddled the concern 
with a lot of unsalable books. In 1813 the affairs 
of the book-selling business had to be closed up, 
Constable taking over the unsalable stock and 
assuming the outstanding liabilities in return for 
copyright privileges covering some of Scott's 



LIFE OF SCOTT 35 

novels. This so burdened the veteran publisher 
that when, in 1825, a large London firm failed, it 
carried him down also — and with him James 
Ballantyne, with whom he had entered into close 
relations. Scott's secret connection with Bal- 
lantyne had continued; accordingly he woke up 
one fine day to find himself worse than beggared, 
being personally liable for one hundred and thirty 
thousand pounds. 

IV 

The years intervening between this calamity and 
Scott's death form one of the saddest and at the 
same time most heroic chapters in the history of 
literature. The fragile health of Lady Scott 
succumbed almost immediately to the crushing 
blow, and she died in a few months. Scott sur- 
rendered Abbotsford to his creditors and took up 
humble lodgings in Edinburgh. Here, with a 
pride and stoical courage as quiet as it was splendid, 
he settled down to fill with the earnings of his pen 
the vast gulf of debt for which he was morally 
scarcely responsible at all. In three years he wrote 
Woodstock, three Chronicles of the Canongate, the 
Fair Maid of Perth, Anne of Geierstein, the first 
series of the Tales of a Grandfather, and a Life of 
Napoleon, equal to thirteen volumes of novel size, 
besides editing and annotating a complete edition 
of his own works. All these together netted his 
creditors £40,000. Touched by the efforts he was 



36 INTRODUCTION 

making to settle their claims, they now presented 
him with Abbotsford, and thither he returned to 
spend the few years remaining to him. In 1830 
he suffered a first stroke of paralysis ; refusing to 
give up, however, he made one more desperate rally 
to recapture his old power of story-telling. Count 
Robert of Paris and Castle Dangerous were the 
pathetic result; they are not to be taken into 
account in any estimate of his powers, for they are 
manifestly the work of a paralytic patient. The 
gloomy picture is darkened by an incident which 
illustrates strikingly one pha.se of Scott's character. 

The great Reform Bill was being discussed 
throughout Scotland, menacing what were really 
abuses, but what Scott, with his intense conserva- 
tism, believed to be sacred and inviolable institu- 
tions. The dying man roused himself to make a 
stand against the abominable bill. In a speech 
which he made at Jedburgh, he was hissed and 
hooted by the crowd, and he left the town with the 
dastardly cry of "Burk Sir Walter !' ' ringing in his 
ears. 

Nature now intervened to ease the intolerable 
strain. Scott's anxiety concerning his debt grad- 
ually gave way to an hallucination that it had 
all been paid. His friends took advantage of the 
quietude which followed to induce him to make the 
journey to Italy, in the fear that the severe winter 
of Scotland would prove fatal. A ship of His 
Majesty's fleet was put at his disposal, and he set 



LIFE OF SCOTT - 3 } 

sail for Malta. The youthful adventurousness of 
the man flared up again oddly for a moment, when 
he insisted on being set ashore upon a volcanic 
island in the Mediterranean which had appeared 
but a few days before and which sank beneath the 
surface shortly after. The climate of Malta at first 
appeared to benefit him; but when he heard, one 
day, of the death of Goethe at Weimar, he seemed 
seized with a sudden apprehension of his own end, 
and insisted upon hurrying back through Europe, 
in order that he might look once more on Abbots - 
ford. On the ride from Edinburgh he remained 
for the first two stages entirely unconscious. But 
as the carriage entered the valley of the Gala he 
opened his eyes and murmured the name of 
objects as they passed, "Gala water, surely, — 
Buckholm, — Torwoodlee." When the towers of 
Abbotsford came in view, he was so filled with 
delight that he could scarcely be restrained from 
leaping out. At the gates he greeted faithful 
Laidlaw in a voice strong and hearty as of old : 
41 Why, man, how often I have thought of you!" 
and smiled and wept over the dogs who came rush- 
ing as in bygone times to lick his hand. He died 
a few days later, on the afternoon of a glorious 
autumn day, with all the windows open, so that he 
might catch to the last the whisper of the Tweed 
over its pebbles. 

"And so," says Oarlyle, "the curtain falls; and 
the strong Walter Scott is with us no more. A 



38 INTRODUCTION 

possession from him does remain ; widely scattered ; 
yet attainable ; not inconsiderable. It can be said 
of him, when he departed, he took a Man's life 
along with him. No sounder piece of British man- 
hood was put together in that eighteenth century 
of Time. Alas, his fine Scotch face, with its 
shaggy honesty, sagacity and goodness, when we 
saw it latterly on the Edinburgh streets, was all 
worn with care, the joy all fled from it ; — ploughed 
deep with labour and sorrow. We shall never 
forget it; we shall never see it again. Adieu, Sir 
Walter, pride of all Scotchmen, take our proud and 
sad farewell." 



II. SCOTT'S PLACE IN THE ROMANTIC 
MOVEMENT 

In order rightly to appreciate the poetry of 
Scott it is necessary to understand something of 
that remarkable "Romantic Movement" which 
took place toward the end of the eighteenth cen- 
tury, and within a space of twenty-five years com- 
pletely changed the face of English literature. Both 
the causes and the effects of this movement were 
much more than merely literary; the "romantic 
revival' ' penetrated every crevice and ramification 
of life in those parts of Europe which it affected ; 
its social, political, and religious results were all 
deeply significant. But we must here confine our- 
selves to such aspects of the revival as showed them- 
selves in English poetry. 

Eighteenth century poetry had been distinguished 
by its polish, its formal correctness, or — to use a 
term in much favor with critics of that day — its 
"elegance." The various and wayward metrical 
effects of the Elizabethan and Jacobean poets, had 
been discarded for a few well-recognized verse 
forms, which themselves in turn had become still 
further limited by the application to them of pre- 
cise rules of structure. Hand in hand with this 
restricting process in metre, had gone a similar 

89 



40 INTRODUCTION 

tendency in diction. The simple, concrete phrases 
of daily speech had given way to stately periphrases ; 
the rich and riotous vocabulary of earlier poetry 
had been replaced by one more decorous, measured, 
and high-sounding. A corresponding process of 
selection and exclusion was applied to the subject 
matter of poetry. Passion, lyric exaltation, delight 
in the concrete life of man and nature, passed out 
of fashion; in their stead came social satire, 
criticism, generalized observation. While the 
classical influence, as it is usually called, was at its 
height, with such men as Dry den and Pope to 
exemplify it, it did a great work; but toward the 
end of the eighth decade of the eighteenth century 
it had visibly run to seed. The feeble Hayley, the 
silly Delia Crusca, the arid Erasmus Darwin, were 
its only exemplars. England was ripe for a literary 
revolution, a return to nature and to passion ; and 
such a revolution was not slow in coming. 

It announced itself first in George Crabbe, who 
turned to paint the life of the poor with patient 
realism; in Burns, who poured out in his songs the 
passion of love, the passion of sorrow, the passion 
of conviviality ; in Blake, who tried to reach across 
the horizon of visible fact to mystical heavens of 
more enduring reality. Following close upon these 
men came the four poets destined to accomplish 
the revolution which the early comers had begun. 
They were born within four years of each other, 
Wordsworth in 1770, Scott in 1771, Coleridge in 



THE ROMANTIC MOVEMENT 41 

1772, Southey in 1774. As we look at these four 
men now, and estimate their worth as poets, we see 
that Southey drops almost out of the account, and 
that Wordsworth and Coleridge stand, so far as the 
highest qualities of poetry go, far above Scott, as, 
indeed, Blake and Burns do also. But the con- 
temporary judgment upon them was directly the 
reverse; and Scott's poetry exercised an influence 
over his age immeasurably greater than that of 
any of the other three. Let us attempt to dis- 
cover what qualities this poetry possessed which 
gave it its astonishing hold upon the age when it 
was written. In so doing, we may discover 
indirectly some of the reasons why it still retains a 
large portion of its popularity, and perhaps arrive 
at some grounds of judgment by which we may test 
its right thereto. 

One reason why Scott's poetry was immediately 
welcomed, while that of Wordsworth and of 
Coleridge lay neglected, is to be found in the fact 
that in the matter of diction Scott was much less 
revolutionary than they. By nature and education 
he was conservative; he put the Lay of the Last 
Minstrel into the mouth of a rude harper of the 
North in order to shield himself from the charge 
of "attempting to set up a new school in poetry," 
and he never throughout his life violated the con- 
ventions, literary or social, if he could possibh 
avoid doing so. This bias toward conservatism 
and conventionality shows itself particularly in the 



42 INTRODUCTION 

language of his poems. He was compelled, of 
course, to use much more concrete and vivid terms 
than the eighteenth century poets had used, because 
he was dealing with much more concrete and vivid 
mattes- ; but his language, nevertheless, has a pre- 
vailing stateliness, and at times an artificiality, 
which recommended it to readers tired of the 
inanities of Hayley and Mason, but unwilling to 
accept the startling simplicity and concreteness of 
diction exemplified by the Lake poets at their best. 

Another peculiarity of Scott's poetry which 
made powerfully for its popularity, was its spirited 
metre. People were weary of the heroic couplet. 
and turned eagerly to these hurried verses, that 
went on their way with the sharp tramp of moss- 
troopers, and heated the blood like a drum. The 
metres of Coleridge, subtle, delicate, and poignant, 
had been passed by with indifference, — had not been 
heard perhaps, for lack of ears trained to hear; 
but Scott's metrical effects were such as a child 
could appreciate, and a soldier could cany in his 
head. 

Analogous to this treatment of metre, though 
belonging to a less formal side of his art, was 
Scott's treatment of nature, the landscape setting 
of his stories. Perhaps the most obvious feature 
of the romantic revival was a reawakening of 
interest in out-door nature. D was as if for a 
hundred years past people had been stricken blind 
on as they passed from the city streets into 



THE ROMANTIC MOVEMENT 43 

the country. A trim garden, an artfully placed 
country house, a well-kept preserve, they might 
see ; but for the great shaggy world of mountain 
and sea — it had been shut out of man's elegant 
vision. Before Scott began to write there had 
been no lack of prophets of the new nature-wor- 
ship, but none of them of a sort to catch the 
general ear. Wordsworth's pantheism was too 
mystical, too delicate and intuitive, to recommend 
itself to any but chosen spirits ; Crabbe's descrip- 
tions were too minute, Coleridge's too intense, to 
please. Scott was the first to paint nature with a 
broad, free touch, without raptures or philosophize 
ing, but with a healthy pleasure in its obvious 
beauties, such as appeal to* average men. His 
"scenery" seldom exists for its own sake, but 
serves, as it should, for background and setting of 
his story. As his readers followed the fortunes of 
William of Deloraine or Roderick Dhu, they 
traversed by sunlight and by moonlight landscapes 
of wild romantic charm, and felt their beauty quite 
naturally, as a part of the excitement of that wild 
life. They felt it the more readily because of a 
touch of artificial stateliness in the handling, a 
slight theatrical heightening of effect — from an 
absolute point of view a defect, but highly con- 
genial to the taste of the time. It was the poenic 
side of nature which Scott gave, and gave inimi- 
tably, while Burns was piercing to the inner heart 
of her tenderness in his lines To a Mountain Daisy, 



44 INTRODUCTION 

and To a Mouse, while Wordsworth was mystically 
communing with her soul, in his Tintem Abbey. 
It was the scenic side of nature for which the per- 
ceptions of men were ripe ; so they left profounder 
poets to their musings, and followed after the poet 
who could give them a brilliant story set in a bril- 
liant scene. 

Again, the emotional element of Scott's poetry 
was on a comprehensible plane. The situations with 
which he deals, the passions, ambitions, satisfac- 
tions, which he portrays, belong, in one form or 
another, to all men, or at least are easily grasped by 
the imaginations of all men. It has often been 
said that Scott is the most Homeric of English 
poets ; so far as the claim rests on considerations of 
style, it is hardly to be granted, for nothing could 
be farther than the hurrying torrent of Scott's 
verse from the "long and refluent music" of 
Homer. But in this other respect, that he deals 
in the rudimentary stuff of human character in a 
straightforward way, without a hint of modern 
complexities and super-subtleties, he is really akin 
to the master poet of antiquity. This, added to 
the crude wild life which he pictures, the vigorous 
sweep of his action, the sincere glow of romance 
which bathes his story — all so tonic in their effect 
upon minds long used to the stuffy decorum of 
didactic poetry, completed the triumph of the Lay 
of the Last Minstrel, Marmion, and the Lady of 
the Lake, over their age. 



THE ROMANTIC MOVEMENT 45 

As has been already suggested, Scott cannot be 
put in the first rank of poets. No compromise 
can be made on this point, because upon it the 
whole theory of poetry depends. Neither on the 
formal nor on the essential sides of his art is he 
among the small company of the supreme. And 
no one understood this better than himself. He 
touched the keynote of his own power, though with 
too great modesty, when he said, "I am sensible 
that if there is anything good about my poetry . . 
. . it is a hurried frankness of composition which 
pleases soldiers, sailors, and young people of bold 
and active dispositions." The poet Campbell, who 
was so fascinated by Scott's ballad of Cadyow Castle 
that he used to repeat it aloud on the North Bridge 
of Edinburgh until "the whole fraternity of coach- 
men knew him by tongue as he passed," character- 
izes the predominant charm of Scott's poetry as 
lying in a "strong, pithy eloquence," which is 
perhaps only another name for "hurried frankness 
of composition. ,, If this is not the highest quality 
to which poetry can attain, it is a very admirable 
one; and it will be a sad day for the English-speak- 
ing race when there shall not be found persons of 
every age and walk of life, to take the same delights 
in these stirring poems as their author loved to 
think was taken by "soldiers, sailors, and young 
people of bold and active dispositions." 



III. THE LAY OF THE LAST MINSTREL 

The form of the Lay of the Last Minstrel was 
largely determined by Scott's reading of the old 
metrical romances of the Middle Ages. These 
long verse narratives were immensely popular for a 
period of several centuries, and came in time to 
form great cycles of poems devoted to the exploits 
of single heroes or heroic groups. One cycle, for 
example, was devoted to Charlemagne and his 
paladins, another to King Arthur and the Knights 
of the Round Table, another to the history of Troy 
and the heroes surviving from the Trojan War. 
Scott, familiar with these romances from boyhood, 
was fascinated by their bright color, their wealth 
of incident, and the ingenuous prattling stream of 
their story. When he came to write his first long 
poem it was natural for him to turn to this form. 
The chief difference between the Lay of the Last 
Minstrel and the early metrical romances lies in 
the fact that in it the art of the poet is no longer 
ingenuous, but has become self-conscious: in 
consequence, the story has a firmer outline, moves 
more steadily, and is developed with a greater 
wealth and harmony of descriptive detail. 

For the division of the verse, also, into stanzas of 
irregular length and structure, Scott had a prec- 
edent, — an odd one under the circumstances, — 

46 



THE LAY OF THE LAST MINSTREL 47 

namely, the eighteenth century ode. The ode 
form, developed by Abraham Cowley in his so- 
called Pindaric Odes and later exemplified by Dry- 
den in his Alexander's Feast, was almost the only 
escape offered to the poet of the classical period from 
the tyranny of the heroic couplet. Its chief pecu- 
liarities were its constantly varying line-and-stanza- 
length, its shifting metre and rhyme. All these 
Scott took advantage of. As for the metre itself, 
the hint which he received from Coleridge's ' 
Christabel was of the utmost importance. Coleridge 
had attempted what he held to be a wholly new 
kind of metre, in which the beats or accents, 
though of uniform number in each line, were freely 
distributed through the line, according to the 
demands made by the sense, without regard to 
regularity of recurrence. Scott was still less con- 
sistent than Coleridge in following out the theory, 
but the hint was nevertheless useful in enabling 
him to detach himself more completely than might 
otherwise have been possible, from the fetters of 
the classical versification. By the vigor of his 
metrical changes, the exhilarating freedom and 
crispness of his versification, he made up in part 
for his lack of subtlety in handling the line of free 
accent. 

The framework in which, by a happy after- 
thought, Scott set his Lay, has always been much 
admired. An ancient minstrel of the Border, 
fallen upon the evil days of the closing seventeenth 



43 INTRODUCTION 

century, when the breaking up of old feudal institu- 
tions conspired with the harsh laws enacted under 
the Commonwealth to strip the minstrel of his 
ancient honors, begs shelter at the castle of Anne, 
the widowed Duchess of Buccleugh and Mon- 
mouth. Being kindly received, he volunteers to 
sing before the Duchess and her court a tale of 
the "old warriors of Buccleugh," and proceeds to 
narrate a series of events supposed to be connected 
with the history of the house of Buccleugh some 
century and a half previously, when the widow of 
Sir Walter Scott of Buccleugh held the Border 
fortress of Branksome (or Branxholm) Hall. At 
the beginning and end of each canto, the poet recurs 
to the old minstrel, and describes his emotions, in 
such a way as to form a kind of arabesque frame- 
work wreathing the story proper. It has been 
already stated that the Lay was written at the direct 
request of the Countess of Dalkeith , a descendant 
of the Duchess before whom the old minstrel is sup- 
posed to sing. In a sense, therefore, we may say 
that under the figure of the Last Minstrel, Scott 
meant to represent himself, and under that of the 
widowed duchess, the young wife of his "chief." 
It is not difficult, indeed, to find touches in these 
passages which seem to have an autobiographical 
intention. 

Before commenting upon the structure of the 
poem proper, it will be useful to have before us a 
brief summary of the story. A better one could 



THE LAY OF THE LAST MINSTREL 49 

hardly be given than that which appeared in the 
original review of the Lay, written by the famous 
critic Francis Jeffrey, for the Edinburgh Review, 
April, 1805: 

"Sir Walter Scott of Buccleugh, the Lord of 
Branksome, was slain in a skirmish with the Carrs, 
about the middle of the sixteenth century. He left 
a daughter of matchless beauty (the Lady Mar- 
garet), an infant son, and a high-minded widow, 
who, though a very virtuous and devout person, 
was privately addicted to the study of Magic, in 
which she had been initiated by her father. Lord 
Cranstoun, their neighbour, was at feud with the 
whole clan of Scott ; but had fallen desperately in 
love with the daughter, who returned his passion 
with equal sincerity and ardour, though withheld, 
by her duty to her mother, from uniting her 
destiny with his. The poem opens with a descrip- 
tion of the warlike establishment of Branksome-- 
hall; and the first incident which occurs is a 
dialogue between the spirits of the adjoining 
mountain and river, who, after c onsulting? the 
stars, d eclare that jno j?ood fortu ne can p.vpt b La&g^ 
thlTnlansion 'till pride be quelled and love be 
free.' The lady, whose forbidden studies had 
taught her to understand the language of such 
speakers, overhears this conversation; and vows, if 
possible, to retain her purpose in spite of it. She 
calls a gallant knight of her train, therefore, and 
directs him to ride immediately to the Abbey of 
Melrose, and there to ask, from the monk of St. 
Mary's aisle, the mighty book that was hid in the 
tomb of the wizard Michael Scott. The remainder 
of the first canto is occupied with the night 
journey of the warrior. When he delivers his 



50 INTRODUCTION 

message, the monk appears filled with consternation 
and terror, but leads him at last through many 
galleries and chapels, to the spot where the wizard 
was interred ; and, after some account of his life and 
character, the warrior heaves up the tombstone, 
and is dazzled by the streaming splendour of an 
ever-burning lamp, which illuminates the sepulchre 
of the enchanter. With trembling hand he takes 
the book from the side of the deceased, and hurries 
home with it in his bosom. 

"In the meantime, Lord Cranstoun and the 
lovely Margaret have met at dawn in the woods 
adjacent to the castle, and are repeating their vows 
of true love, when they are startled by the 
approach of a horseman. The lady retreats ; and 
the lover advancing, finds it to be the messenger 
from Branksome, with whom, as an hereditary 
enemy, he thinks it necessary to enter immediately 
into combat. The poor knight, fatigued with his 
nocturnal adventures, is dismounted at the first 
shock, and falls desperately wounded to the 
ground; while Lord Cranstoun, relenting toward 
the kinsman of his beloved, directs his page to 
attend him (i. e., the wounded knight) to the 
castle, and gallops home before any alarm can be 
given. Lord Cranstoun 's page is something 
unearthly. It is a little misshapen dwarf, whom 
he found one day when he was hunting, in a soli- 
tary glen, and took home with him. It never 
speaks, except now and then to cry 'Lost! lost! 
lost!' and is, on the whole, a hateful, malicious 
little urchin, with no one good quality but his 
unaccountable attachment and fidelity to his 
master. This personage, on approaching the 
wounded Borderer, discovers the mighty book in 
his bosom, which he finds some difficulty in open- 



THE LAY OF THE LAST MINSTREL 51 

ing, and has scarcely had time to read a single 
spell in it, when he is struck down by an invisible 
hand, and the clasps of the magic volume shut 
suddenly more closely than ever. This one spell, 
however, enables him to practise every kind of 
illusion. He lays the wounded knight on his 
horse, and leads him into the castle, while the 
warders see nothing but a wain of hay. He throws 
him down, unperceived, at the door of the lady's 
chamber, and turns to make good his retreat. In 
passing through the court, however, he sees the 
young heir of Buccleugh at play, and, assuming 
the form of one of his companions, tempts him to 
go out with him to the woods, where, as soon as 
they pass a rivulet, he resumes his own shape, and 
bounds away. The bewildered child is met by two 
English archers, who make prize of him, and carry 
him off, while the goblin page returns to the 
castle; where he personates the young baron, to 
the great annoyance of all the inhabitants. 

44 The lady finds the wounded knight, and eagerly 
employs charms for his recovery, that she may 
learn the story of his disaster. The lovely Mar- 
garet, in the meantime, is sitting in her turret, 
gazing on the western stars, and musing on the 
scenes of the morning, when she discovers the 
blazing beacons which announce the approach of 
an English enemy. The alarm is immediately 
given, and bustling preparation made throughout 
the mansion for defence. The English force, 
under the command of the Lords Howard and 
Dacre, speedily appears before the castle, leading 
with them the young Buccleugh; and propose 
that the lady should either give up Sir William of 
Deloraine (who had been her messenger to 
Melrose), as having incurred the guilt of march 



52 INTRODUCTION 

treason, or receive an English garrison within her 
walls. She answers, with much spirit, that her 
kinsman will clear himself of the imputation of 
treason by single combat, and that no foe shall 
ever get admittance into her fortress. The Eng- 
lish lords, being secretly apprised of the approach 
of powerful succours to the besieged, agree to the 
proposal of the combat ; and stipulate that the boy 
shall be restored to liberty, or retained in bondage, 
according to the issue of the battle. The lists are 
appointed for the ensuing day ; and a truce being 
proclaimed in the meantime, the opposite bands 
mingle in hospitality and friendship. 

"Deloraine being wounded, was expected to 
appear by proxy of a champion ; and some conten- 
tion arises for the honour of that substitution. 
This, however, is speedily terminated by a person 
in the armour of the warrior himself, who encoun- 
ters the English champion, slays him, and leads 
the captive young chieftain to the embraces of his 
mother. At this moment Deloraine himself 
appears, half-clothed and unarmed, to claim the 
combat which has been terminated in his absence ; 
and all flock round the stranger who had person- 
ated him so successfully. He unclasps his helmet ; 
and behold! Lord Cranstoun of Teviotside! The 
lady, overcome with gratitude, and the remem- 
brance of the spirits' prophecy, consents to forego 
the feud, and to give the fair hand of Margaret to 
that of the enamoured Baron. The rites of 
betrothment are then celebrated with great 
magnificence ; and a splendid entertainment given 
to all the English and Scottish chieftains whom 
the alarm had assembled at Branksome. Lord 
Cranstoun 's page plays several unlucky tricks 
during the festival, and breeds some dissension 



THE LAY OF THE LAST MINSTREL 53 

among the warriors. To soothe their ireful mood, 
the minstrels are introduced, who recite three 
ballad pieces of considerable merit. Just as their 
songs are ended, a supernatural darkness spreads 
itself through the hall; a tremendous flash of 
lightning and peal of thunder ensue, which break 
just on the spot where the goblin page had been 
seated. He is heard to cry 4 Found! found! 
found!' and is no more to be seen, when the dark- 
ness clears away. The whole party is chilled with 
terror at this extraordinary incident ; and Deloraine 
protests that he distinctly saw the figure of the 
ancient wizard Michael Scott, in the middle of the 
lightning. The lady renounces forever the 
unhallowed study of magic; and all the chieftains, 
struck with awe and consternation, vow to make a 
pilgrimage to Melrose to implore rest and for- 
giveness for the spirit of the departed sorcerer. 
With the description of this ceremony the minstrel 
closes his 'Lay.' " 

In connection with this summary Jeffrey made a 
criticism of the structure of the story which has 
served as a basis for almost all subsequent criticism 
of an adverse kind. He says : 

"From this little sketch of the story, our readers 
will easily perceive that, however well calculated 
it may be for the introduction of picturesque 
imagery, or the display of extraordinary incident, 
it has but little pretension to the praise of a regular 
or coherent narrative. The magic of the lady, the 
midnight visit to Melrose, and the mighty book of 
the enchanter, which occupy nearly one-third of 
the whole poem, and engross the attention of the 
reader for a long time after the commencement of 
the narrative, are of no use whatsoever in the sub- 



rsTRODrcnc : 

;ent development of the fable, and do not con- 
tribute, in any degree, either to the production or 
explanation of the incidents that follow. The 
whole character and proceedings of the goblin page, 
in like manner, may be considered as me: 
episodical ; for though he is employed in some of 
the subordinate incidents, it is remarkable that no 
material part of the fable requires the intervention 
of supernatural agency. The young Buecleugh 
might have wandered into the wood, although he 
had not been decoyed by a goblin ; and the dame 
might have given her daughter to the deliverer of 
her son, although she had never listened to 
prattlement of the river and mountain spi: its 
There is, besides all this, a great deal of grarui: 
and digressive description, and the whole sixth 
canto may be said to be redundant. H 
should naturally end with the union of the lov- 
and the account of the feast, and the minstrelsy 
that solemnized their betrothal, is a sort of epi- 
logue, super -added after the catastrophe is eom- 

:-- 

It is impossible, however, to agree with this 
sweeping condemnation of the structure of the 
story. I: is the la: ^ gift of magic that enables 
her to understand the warning voices of the spi: 
and induces her to despatch Deloraine after the 
wizard's book, in order that she may by its power- 
ful aid, frustrate the prophecy concerning the evil 
which will rest upon the house of Branksome until 
' % pride be quelled and love be free I: 
aid of the book that the goblin page is enabled to 
enter the castle unperceived. and lure forth the 
young heir to the woods ; t<: : the boy might 



THE LAY OF THE LAST MINSTREL 55 

have wandered out of his own accord is merely to 
say that the incident could have been motived in 
another way, not that the way employed was weak 
or illegitimate. It is the page who, by means of 
the spell learned from the wizard's book, introduces 
Lord Cranstoun into the castle of his hereditary 
enemies, clothes him in the armor of the wounded 
Deloraine, and so brings about the culmination of 
the story, in the reconciliation of the lady with 
him, and his betrothal to Margaret. As to the 
redundant nature of the sixth canto, Jeffrey's 
criticism was perhaps better founded. The climax 
of the story, from a dramatic standpoint, is cer- 
tainly reached at the end of the fifth canto. Yet 
the supernatural appearance of the wizard to claim 
the page as his strayed servant, affords a needed 
explanation of the origin of that mysterious imp of 
mischief; and the lady's renouncement of magic, 
and the pilgrimage of the lords for the repose of 
the wizard's soul, afford a solemn and stately end- 
ing to the whole piece. 

f Yet, while it is thus possible to show that the 
story was not carelessly put together, it is impossible 
not to fdel that after all a certain incoherence 
exists. ^Scott started out to make the goblin page 
the chief figure of the poem, but both because of 
the vague and confused nature of the legend, and 
because of the greater charm which lay for the 
poet's mind in the historic realities of Border life, 
lie was unable to do so. He humorously Bays in a 



56 INTRODUCTION 

letter to Miss Seward on the subject, that the page 
1 'contrived (from the baseness of his natural pro- 
pensities, I suppose,) to slink down stairs into the 
kitchen, and now he must e'en abide there." As 
a result of this shift of interest the story remains 
incoherent, in spite of the pains which the author 
took to join its parts together. 

This lack of organic unity is further emphasized 
by the contrast in tone and spirit which exists be- 
tween the natural and the supernatural elements of 
the poem. About all the latter there is an air of 
clap-trap, such as characterized Burger's ballads and 
Monk Lewis's tales. The poet does not believe in the / 
marvels he recites, and he signally fails to create 
an illusion in the mind of his readers. Against 
this false and garish supernaturalism those passages 
where Scott has clung closely to historical realism, 
as, for example, the description of the coming of 
Watt Tinlinn and his wife to the castle of Brank- 
some, stand out in undue contrast. The fact is 
that Scott purposed to write a metrical romance of 
the kind whose naivete and credulity had charmed 
him in his reading of the mediaeval minstrels; but 
his mind, being of a healthy cast, was drawn off 
constantly to elaborate the natural daylight aspects 
of his story. Hence results a failure to harmonize 
his effects. The poem gives us, at one moment, 
Scott the translator of Lenore, at another, Scott the 
author of Waverley; it remains essentially a 
brilliant patchwork. 



THE LAY OF THE LAST MINSTREL 57 

Another fact to be noted before we can approach 
the poem intelligently, is that Scott consciously 
heightened the rude Border life with which he 
dealt in the Lay, and gave it a ceremonial pomp 
and splendor which did not really belong to it. 
lie was much too well read in Scotch history not to 
know that his description of the military establish- 
ment of Branksome Hall, or his account of the 
Tournament, threw a fictitious light of splendor 1/ 
over the life he dealt with. Whether or not this 
artificial heightening is a matter of regret, remains 
doubtful. Certainly we are inclined to think so 
when we notice the reality, the persuasive vivid- 
ness, of the realistic passages, such as Deloraine's 
night ride, the preparations at Branksome to repel 
the English besieging force, or the coming of 
Watt Tinlinn to the castle. But, on the other 
hand, many of the stirring and memorable passages 
of the poem are in the heightened manner. The 
most famous among these is perhaps the description 
of Melrose Abbey by moonlight, a passage which 
everybody had by heart when the Lay was new. 
Less famous, though better, is the description of 
the approach of the English forces to Branksome : 

Soon on the hill's steep verge he stood 
That looks o'er Branksome's towers and wood ; 
And martial murmurs, from below, 
Proclaimed the approaching southern foe. 
Through the dark wood, in mingled tone, 
Were Border pipes and bugles blown; 
The courser's neighing he could ken, 



58 INTRODUCTION 

A measured tread of marching men ; 
While broke at times the solemn hum, 
The Alinayn's sullen kettle-drum; 
And banners tall, of crimson sheen. 
Above the copse appear; 
And glistening through the hawthorn green, 
Shine helm, and shield, and spear. 
Light foray ers. first, to view the ground. 
Spurred their fleet coursers loosely round ; 
Behind., in close array and fast. 
The Kendal archers, all in green, 
Obedient to the bugle blast. 

Ivanomg from the wood were seen. 
To back and guard the archer band. 
Lord Dacre's bill-men were at hand: 
A hardy race, on Irthing bred, 
With kirtles white, and crosses red 
Arrayed beneath the banner tall. 
That streamed o'er Acre's conquered wall: 
And minstrels, as they marched in order, 
Played "Noble Lord Dacre, he dwells on the Border. ' 
Behind the English bill and bow, 
The mercenaries, firm and slow. 
Moved on to fight, in dark array. 
By Conrad led of Wolfenstein, 
Who brought the band from distant Rhine. 
And sold their blood for foreign pay. 

They were not armed like England's sons. 

But bore the levin-darting guns : 

Buff coats, all frounced and broidered o'er, 

And morsing-horns and scarfs they wore : 

All as they marched, in rugged tongue, 
Songs of Teutonic feuds they sung. 



THE LAY OF THE LAST MINSTREL 59 

In such passages as this, Scott's poetic power is 
nearly at its height. He can make us feel the 
pomp and circumstance of war as very few poets 
have ever done, and under this external pomp and 
circumstance can make us feel the play of large, 
primitive passions, can evoke for us the living 
figures of bold and hardy men. Although there is 
less of this in the Lay than in most of Scott's 
longer poems, there is enough to preserve the work 
from the decay which would else have already over- 
taken it. The student's business should be to pick 
out among the unharmonized elements of the 
poem the sterling from the pinchbeck, and thereby 
to train his taste to distinguish everywhere in poetry 
between what is merely specious and what is in- 
deed worthy. 



INTRODUCTION 

The way was long, the wind was cold, 
The Minstrel was infirm and old ; 
His wither'd cheek, and tresses grey, 
Seem'd to have known a better day; 

5 The harp, his sole remaining joy, 
Was carried by an orphan boy. 
The last of all the Bards was he, 
Who sung of Border chivalry ; 
For well a day ! their date was fled, 

10 His tuneful brethren all were dead ; 
And he, neglected and oppress'd, 
Wish'd to be with them, and at rest. 
No more, on prancing palfrey borne, 
He caroll'd light as lark at morn; 

15 No longer courted and caress'd, 

High placed in hall, a welcome guest, 

He pour'd to lord and lady gay, 

The unpremeditated lay: 

Old times were changed, old manners gone ; 

20 A stranger fill'd the Stuarts' throne; 
The bigots of the iron time 
Had call'd his harmless art a crime. 
A wandering Harper, scorn'd and poor, 
lie begg'd his bread from door to door; 

o~ And tuned to plea.se a peasant's ear, 
The harp a king had loved to hear, 



62 THE LAY OF THE LAST MINSTREL 

He pass'd where Newark's stately tower 
Looks out from Yarrow's birchen bower : 
The Minstrel gazed with wishful eye — 
No humbler resting-place was nigh. ao 

With hesitating step, at last, 
The embattled portal arch he pass'd, 
Whose ponderous grate and massy bar 
Had oft roll'd back the tide of war, 
But never closed the iron door 35 

Against the desolate and poor. 
The Duchess mark'd his weary pace, 
His timid mien, and reverend face, 
And bade her page the menials tell, 
That they should tend the old man well : 40 

For she had known adversity, 
Though born in such a high degree ; 
In pride of power, in beauty's bloom, 
Had wept o'er Monmouth's bloody tomb. 

When kindness had his wants supplied, 45 

And the old man was gratified, 
Began to rise his minstrel pride : 
And he began to talk anon, 
Of good Earl Francis, dead and gone, 
And of Earl Walter, rest him, Gocl! 50 

A braver ne'er to battle rode; 
And how full many a tale he knew, 
Of the old warriors of Buccleuch : 
And, would the noble Duchess deign 
To listen to an old man's strain, 55 



INTRODUCTION 63 

Though stiff his hand, his voice, though weak, 
He thought even yet, the sooth to speak, 
That, if she loved the harp to hear, 
He could make music to her ear. 

go The humble boon was soon obtain'd; 

The Aged Minstrel audience gain'd. 

But, when he reach 'd the room of state, 

Where she, with all her ladies, sate, 

Perchance he wish'd his boon denied: 
65 For, when to tune his harp he tried, 

His trembling hand had lost the ease, 

Which marks security to please ; 

And scenes, long past, of joy and pain, 

Came wildering o'er his aged brain — 
to He tried to tune his harp in vain ! 

The pitying Duchess praised its chime, 

And gave him heart, and gave him time, 

Till every string's according glee 

Was blended into harmony. 
75 And then, he said, he would full fain 

He could recall an ancient strain, 

He never thought to sing again. 

It was not framed for village churls, 

But for high dames and mighty earls ; 
so He had play'd it to King Charles the Good, 

When he kept court in Holyrood ; 

And much he wish'd, yet fear'd to try 

The long-forgotten melody. 

Amid the strings his fingers Btray'd, 



64 THE LAY OF THE LAST MINSTREL 

And an uncertain warbling made, 85 

And oft he shook his hoary head. 

But when he caught the measure w T ild, 

The old man raised his face, and smiled ; 

And lighten'd up his faded eye, 

With all a poet's ecstasy! 90 

In varying cadence, soft or strong, 

He swept the sounding chords along : 

The present scene, the future lot, 

His toils, his wants, were all forgot: 

Cold diffidence, and age's frost, 9b 

In the full tide of song were lost ; 

Each blank, in faithless memory void, 

The poet's glowing thought supplied; 

And while his harp responsive rung, 

'Twas thus the Latest Minstrel sung. 100 



CANTO FIRST 

I 

The feast was over in Branksome tower, 
And the Ladye had gone to her secret bower ; 
Her bower that was guarded by word and by 

spell, 
Deadly to hear, and deadly to tell — 
Jesu Maria, shield us well ! 
No living wight, save the Ladye alone, 
Had dared to cross the threshold stone. 

II 

The tables were drawn, it was idlesse all ; 

Knight, and page, and household squire, 
Loiter'd through the lofty hall, 

Or crowded round the ample fire : 
The stag-hounds, weary with the chase, 

Lay stretch 'd upon the rushy floor, 
And urged, in dreams, the forest race, 

From Teviot-stone to Eskdale-moor. 

Ill 

Xine-and-twenty knights of fame 

Hung their shields in Branksome-Hall ; 

Nine-and-twenty squires of name 

Brought them their steeds to bower from stall ; 



66 THE LAY OF THE LAST MINSTREL 

Nine-a :all 

Waited, duteous, on them all: 
They were all knights of metal true, 
Kinsmen to the bold Buceleuch. 

IV 

of them were sheatlrd in steel. 
With belted sword, and spur on heel: 
They quitted not their harness bright, 

Xeither by day, not yet by night: 

They lay down to re-:. 5 

With corslet laced, 
Pillow'd on buckler cold and hard; 

They carved at the meal 

With gloves of steel. 
And they drank the red wine through the he, 
met barr'd. 

V 

Ten squires, ten yeomen, mail-clad men, 

Waited the beck of the warders ten; 

Thirty steeds, both fleet and wig . 

v t >od saddled in stable day and night, 

Barbed with frontlet of steel. I trow, 5 

And with Jedwood-axe at saddle-bow; 

A hundred more fed free in stall : — 

Such was the custom of Branksome-Hall. 

VI 

Wh eeda stand ready dight? 

Why watch these warriors, arm'd by night? — 



CANTO FIRST 67 

They watch, to hear the blood-hound baying: 
They watch, to hear the war-horn braying; 
5 To see St. George's red cross streaming, 
To see the midnight beacon gleaming : 
They watch, against Southern force and guile, 
Lest Scroop, or Howard, or Percy's powers, 
Threaten Branksome's lordly towers, 
10 From Warkworth, or Naworth, or merry Carlisle. 

VII 

Such is the custom of Branksome-Hall. — 

Many a valiant knight is here ; 
But He, the Chieftain of them all, 
His sword hangs rusting on the wall, 
5 Beside his broken spear. 

Bards long shall tell 
How Lord Walter fell ! 
When startled burghers fled, afar, 
The furies of the Border war ; 
io When the streets of high Dunedin 

Saw lances gleam, and falchions redden, 
And heard the slogan's deadly yell — 
Then the Chief of Branksome fell. 

VIII 
Can piety the discord heal, 

Or stanch the death-feud's enmity? 
Can Christian lore, can patriot zeal, 
Can love of blessed charity? 
b No! vainly to each holy shrine, 



68 THE LAY OF THE LAST MINSTREL 

In mutual pilgrimage, they drew; 
Implored, in vain, the grace divine 

For chiefs, their own red falchions slew: 
While Cessford owns the rule of Carr, 

TThile Ettrick boasts the line of Scott, 10 

The slaughter'd chiefs, the mortal jar, 
The havoc of the feudal war, 

Shall never, never be forgot ! 

IX 

In sorrow o'er Lord Walter's bier 

The warlike foresters had bent ; 
And many a flower, and many a tear, 

Old Teviot's maids and matrons lent: 
But o'er her warrior's bloody bier 5 

The Ladye dropped nor flower nor tear! 
Vengeance, deep-brooding o'er the slain, 

Had lock'd the source of softer woe; 
And burning pride, and high disdain, 

Forbade the rising tear to flow : 
Until, amid his sorrowing clan, 

Her son lisp'd from the nurse's knee — 
"And if I live to be a man. 

My father's death revenged shall be!" 
Then fast the mother's tears did seek 15 

To dew the infant's kindling cheek. 

X 

All loose her negligent attire, 
All loose her golden hair, 



CANTO FIRST 69 

Hung Margaret o'er her slaughter 'd sire, 

And wept in wild despair, 
5 But not alone the bitter tear 

Had filial grief supplied ; 
For hopeless love, and anxious fear, 

Had lent their mingled tide : 
Nor in her mother's alter 'd eye 
10 Dared she to look for sympathy. 
Her lover, 'gainst her father's clan, 

With Carr in arms had stood, 
When Mathouse-burn to Melrose ran. 

All purple with their blood ; 
is And well she knew, her mother dread, 
Before Lord Cranstoun she should wed, 
Would see her on her dying bed. 



XI 

Of noble race the Ladye came, 
Her father was a clerk of fame, 

Of Bethune's line of Picardie: 
He learned the art that none may name, 

In Padua, far beyond the sea. 
Men said, he changed his mortal frame 

By feat of magic mystery ; 
For when, in studious mood, he paced 

St. Andrew's cloister W hall, 
His form no darkening shadow traced 

Upon the sunny wall ! 



70 THE LAY OF THE LAST MINSTREL 

XII 
And of his skill, as bards avow. 

He taught that Ladye fair, 
Till to her bidding she could bow 

The viewless forms of air. 
And now she sits in secret bower, 
In old Lord David's western tower, 
And listens to a heavy sound, 
That moans the mossy turrets round. 
Is it the roar of Teviot's tide, 
That chafes against the scaur's red side? 
Is it the wind that swings the oaks? 
Is it the echo from the rocks? 
What may it be, the heavy sound, 
That moans old Branksome's turrets round? 

XIII 
At the sullen, moaning sound, 

The ban-dogs bay and howl ; 
And from the turrets round. 

Loud whoops the startled owl. 
In the hall, both squire and knight 

Swore that a storm was near, 
And looked forth to view the night ; 

But the night w T as still and clear ! 

XIV 

From the sound of Teviot's tide, 
Chafing with the mountain's side, 
From the groan of the wind-swung oak, 



CANTO FIRST 71 

From the sullen echo of the rock, 
5 From the voice of the coming storm, 

The Laclye knew it well ! 
It was the Spirit of the Flood that spoke, 

And he called on the Spirit of the Fell. 

XV 

RIVER SPIRIT 

"Sleep'st thou, brother?"— 

MOUNTAIN" SPIRIT 

— " Brother, nay — 
On my hills the moonbeams play. 
From Craik-cross to Skelfhill-pen, 
By every rill, in every glen, 
5 Merry elves their morris pacing, 

To aerial minstrelsy, 
Emerald rings on brown heath tracing, 

Trip it deft and merrily. 
Up, and mark their nimble feet ! 
10 Up, and list their music sweet!" 

XVI 

RIVER SPIRIT 

" Tears of an imprisoned maiden 

Mix with my polluted stream ; 
Margaret of Branksome, sorrow -laden, 

Mourns beneath the moon's pale beam. 
5 Tell me, thou, who view'st the stars, 
When shall cease these feudal jars? 



72 THE LAY OF THE LAST MINSTREL 

What shall be the maiden's fate? 
Who shall be the maiden's mate?" 

XVII 

MOUNTAIN SPIRIT 

"Arthur's slow wain his course doth roll, 

In utter darkness round the pole ; 

The Northern Bear lowers black and grim ; 

Orion's studded belt is dim; 

Twinkling faint, and distant far, s 

Shimmers through mist each planet star ; 

111 may I read their high decree ! 
But no kind influence deign they shower 
On Teviot's tide, and Branksome's tower, 

Till pride be quell'd, and love be free. " 10 

XVIII 
The unearthly voices ceast, 

And the heavy sound was still ; 
It died on the river's breast, 

It died on the side of the hill. 
But round Lord David's tower 5 

The sound still floated near ; 
For it rung in the Ladye's bower, 

And it rung in the Ladye's ear. 
She raised her stately head, 

And her heart throbb'd high with pride : — 10 
"Your mountains shall bend, 
And your streams ascend, 

Ere Margaret be our foeman's bride!" 



CANTO FIRST 73 

XIX 

The Ladye sought the lofty hall, 

Where many a bold retainer lay, 
And, with jocund din, among them all, 

Her son pursued his infant play. 
5 A fancied moss-trooper, the boy 

The truncheon of a spear bestrode, 
And round the hall, right merrily, 

In mimic foray rode. 
Even bearded knights, in arms grown old, 
10 Share in his frolic gambols bore, 

Albeit their hearts of rugged mould, 

Were stubborn as the steel they wore. 
For the grey warriors prophesied, 

How the brave boy in future war, 
is Should tame the Unicorn's pride, 

Exalt the Crescent and the Star. 

XX 

The Ladye forgot her purpose high, 

One moment, and no more; 
One moment gazed with a mother's eye, 
As she paused at the arched door : 
s Then from amid the armed train, 

She call 'd to her William of Deloraine. 

XXI 

A stark, moss-trooping Scott was he 
As e'er couch 'd Border lance by knee; 
Through Solway sands, through Tarras moss, 



H THE LAY OF THE LAST MINSTREL 

Blindfold, fc •" the paths to croea ; 

By wily turns, by desperate bounds, » 

Had baffled Percys lood-henu 

In Eske, or Lid del, fords were non 

But he would ride them, one by one; 

Alike to him was time or tide. 

December's ;.r July's pride: 10 

Alike to him was tide or time. 

Moonless midnight or matin prime ; 

v :eady of heart and stout of hand. 

As ever drove prey from Cumberland; 

Five times outlawed had he be- 15 

By England's King, and Scotland's Queen. 

XXII 

"Sir William of Deloraine, good at need. 
Mount thee on the wightest steed; 
Spare not to spur, nor stint to ride. 
Until thou come to fair Tweedside; 
And in Melrose's holy pile 5 

Seek thou the Monk of St. Mary's aisle. 
Greet the father well from me ; 

Say that the fated hour is come, 
And to-night he shall watch with thee, 

To win the treasure of the tomb : 
For this will be St. Michael's night. 
And, though stars be dim, the moon is bright ; 
And the Cross, of bloody red. 
Will point to the grave of the mighty dead. 



CANTO FIRST 75 

XXIII 

"What he gives thee, see thou keep; 
Stay not thou for food or sleep : 
Be it scroll, or be it book, 
Into it, Knight, thou must not look ; 
5 If thou readest, thou art lorn! 

Better hadst thou ne'er been born." — 

XXIV 

"0 swiftly can speed my dapple-grey steed, 

Which drinks of the Teviot clear ; 
Ere break of day," the Warrior 'gan say, 
"Again will I be here: 
5 And safer by none may thy errand be done, 
Than, noble dame, by me, 
Letter nor line know I never a one, 
Wer't my neck-verse at Hairibee." 

XXV 

Soon in his saddle sate he fast, 
And soon the steep descent he past, 
Soon cross 'd the sounding barbican, 
And soon the Teviot side he won. 
Eastward the wooded path he rode, 
Green hazels o'er his basnet nod; 
He pass'd the Peel of Goldiland, 
And cross'd old Borthwick's roaring strand; 
Dimly he view'd the Moat-hill's mound, 
10 Where Druid shades still flitted round ; 
In Hawick twinkled many a Light; 



TG THE LAY OF THE LAST MINSTREL 

Behind him soon they set in night ; 
And soon he spurred his courser keen 
Beneath the tower of Hazeldean. 

XXVI 

The clattering hoofs the watchmen mark ; — 
14 Stand, ho! thou courier of the dark." — 
"For Branksome, ho!" the knight rejoin'd 
And left the friendly tower behind 

He turn'd him now from Teviotside, 5 

And guided by the tinkling rill, 

Northward the dark ascent did ride, 
And gain'd the moor at Horsliehill ; 
Broad on the left before him lay, 
For many a mile, the Boman way. 10 

XXVII 

A moment now he slack 'd his speed, 

A moment breathed his panting steed ; 

Drew saddle-girth and corslet-band, 

And loosen'd in the sheath his brand. 

On Minto-crags the moonbeams glint, 5 

Where Barnhill hew'd his bed of flint; 

Who flung his outlaw'd limbs to rest, 

Where falcons hang their giddy nest, 

Mid cliffs, from whence his eagle eye 

For many a league his prey could spy ; 10 

Cliffs, doubling, on their echoes borne, 

The terrors of the robber *s horn ; 

Cliffs, which, for many a later year, 



CANTO FIRST 77 

The warbling Doric reed shall hear, 
15 When some sad swain shall teach the grove, 
Ambition is no cure for love! 



XXVIII 

Unchallenged, thence pass'd Deloraine, 
To ancient Riddel's fair domain, 

Where Aill, from mountains freed, 
Down from the lakes did raving come ; 
s Each wave was crested with tawny foam, 

Like the mane of a chestnut steed. 
In vain! no torrent, deep or broad, 
Might bar the bold moss-trooper's road. 

XXIX 

At the first plunge the horse sunk low, 

And the water broke o'er the saddle-bow; 

Above the foaming tide, I ween, 

Scarce half the charger's neck was seen; 
5 For he was barded from counter to tail, 

And the rider was armed complete in mail ; 

Never heavier man and horse 

Stemm'd a midnight torrent's force. 

The warrior's very plume, I say, 
io Was daggled by the dashing spray ; 

Set, through good heart, and Our Lady e 'a 
p;rnc(\ 

At length he gained the landing-place, 



78 THE LAY OF THE LAST MINSTREL 

XXX 

Now Bowden Moor the march-man won, 
And sternly shook his plumed head, 

As glanced his eye o'er Halidon; 
For on his soul the slaughter red 

Of that unhallow 'd morn arose 5 

When first the Scott and Carr were foes ; 

When Eoyal James beheld the fray 5 

Prize to the victor of the day ; 

When Home and Douglas, in the van, 

Bore down Buccleuch's retiring clan, 10 

Till gallant Cessford's heart-blood dear 

Reek'd on dark Elliot's Border spear. 

XXXI 

In bitter mood he spurred fast, 
And soon the hated heath was past ; 
And far beneath in lustre wan, 
Old Melros' rose, and fair Tweed ran: 
Like some tall rock with lichens grey, 5 

Seem'd dimly huge, the dark Abbaye. 
When Hawick he pass'd, had curfew rung, 
Now midnight lauds were in Melrose sung. 
The sound, upon the fitful gale, 
In solemn wise did rise and fail, io 

Like that wild harp, whose magic tone 
Is waken 'd by the winds alone. 
But when Melrose he reach'd 'twas silence 
all; 



CANTO FIRST 79 

He meetly stabled his steed in stall, 
is And sought the convent's lonely wall. 
(Interlude) 

Here paused the harp ; and with its swell 

The Master's fire and courage fell: 

Dejectedly, and low, he bow'd, 

And, gazing timid on the crowd, 
5 He seem'd to seek, in every eye, 

If they approved his minstrelsy ; 

And, diffident of present praise, 

Somewhat he spoke of former days, 

And how old age, and wand 'ring long, 
10 Had done his hand and harp some wrong. 
. The Duchess, and her daughters fair, 

And every gentle lady there, 

Each after each, in due degree, 

Gave praises to his melody ; 
15 His hand was true, his voice was clear, 

And much they long'd the rest to hear. 

Encouraged thus, the Aged Man, 

After meet rest, again began. 



CANTO SECOND 

I 

If thou would 'st view fair Melrose aright, 

Go visit it by the pale moonlight ; 

For the gay beams of lightsome day 

Gild, but to flout, the ruins grey. 

When the broken arches are black in night 5 

And each shafted oriel glimmers white ; 

When the cold light's uncertain shower 

Streams on the ruin'd central tower ; 

When buttress and buttress, alternately, 

Seem framed of ebon and ivory ; 10 

When silver edges the imagery, 

And the scrolls that teach thee to live and die ; 

When distant Tweed is heard to rave, 

And the owlet to hoot o'er the dead man's grave, 

Then go — but go alone the while — 15 

Then view St. David's ruin'd pile; 

And, home returning, soothly swear, 

Was never scene so sad and fair ! 

II 

Short halt did Deloraine make there ; 
Little reck'd he of the scene so fair: 
With dagger's hilt, on the wicket strong, 
He struck full loud, and struck full long. 

80 



CANTO SECOND 81 

5 The porter hurried to the gate — 

"Who knocks so loud, and knocks so late?" 
"From Branksome I!" the warrior cried; 
And straight the wicket open'd wide; 
For Branksome's Chiefs had in battle stood, 

10 To fence the rights of fair Melrose ; 

And lands and livings, many a rood, 

Had gifted the shrine for their souls' repose. 

Ill 

Bold Deloraine his errand said ; 

The porter bent his humble head ; 

With torch in hand, and feet unshod, 

And noiseless step, the path he trod ; 
5 The arched cloister, far and wide, 

Rang to the Warrior's clanking stride; 

Till, stooping low his lofty crest, 

He enter 'd the cell of the ancient priest, 

And lifted his barred aventayle, 
io To hail the Monk of St. Mary's aisle. 

IV 
"The Ladye of Branksome greets thee by me; 

Says, that the fated hour is come, 
And that to-night I shall watch with thee, 
To win the treasure of the tomb." — 
5 From sackcloth couch the monk arose, 
With toil his stiffen'd limbs he rear'd; 
A hundred years had flung their snows 
On his thin locks and floating beard. 



82 THE LAY OF THE LAST MINSTREL 

V 

And strangely on the Knight look'd he, 

And his blue eyes gleam'd wild and wide; 
"And, darest thou, Warrior! seek to see 

What heaven and hell alike would hide? 
My breast, in belt of iron pent, 5 

With shirt of hair and scourge of thorn ; 
For threescore years, in penance spent, 

My knees those flinty stones have worn; 
Yet all too little to atone 
For knowing what should ne'er be known. 10 

Would "st thou thy every future year 
In ceaseless prayer and penance drie, 

Yet wait thy latter end with fear — 
Then, daring Warrior, follow me!" — 

VI 

"Penance, Father, will I none; 

Prayer know I hardly one ; 

For mass or prayer can I rarely tarry, 

Save to patter an Ave Mary, 

When I ride on a Border foray. 5 

Other prayer can I none; 

So speed me my errand, and let me be gone.'' — 

VII 

Again on the Knight looked the Churchman old, 

And again he sighed heavily ; 
For he had himself been a warrior bold, 

And fought in Spain and Italy. 



CAXTO SECOND 83 

5 And he thought on the days that were long 
since by, 
When his limbs were strong, and his courage was 

high:— 
Now, slow and faint, he led the way, 
Where cloister'd round, the garden lay; 
The pillar'd arches were over their head, 
10 And beneath their feet were the bones of the 
dead. 

VIII 
Spreading herbs, and flowerets bright, 
Glisten 'd with the dew of night ; 
Nor herb, nor floweret, glisten'd there, 
But was carved in the cloister-arches as fair. 
5 The Monk gazed long on the lovely moon, 

Then into the night he looked forth ; 
And red and bright the streamers light 

Were dancing in the glowing north. 
So had he seen, in fan- Castile, 
10 The youth in glittering squadrons start ; 

Sudden the flying jennet wheel, 
And hurl the unexpected dart. 
He knew, by the streamers that shot so bright, 
That spirits were riding the northern light. 

IX 
By a steel-clenched postern door, 
fc They enter'd now the chancel tall; 

The darken'd roof rose high aloof 
On pillars lofty and light and small; 



84 THE LAY OF THE LAST MINSTREL 

The key-stone that lock'd each ribbed aisle, s 

Was a fleur-de-lys, or a quatre-f euille ; 
The cor bells were carved grotesque and grim ; 
And the pillars, with cluster 'd shafts so trim, 
With base and with capital flourished around, 
Seem'd bundles of lances which garlands had 10 
bound. 

X 
Full many a scutcheon and banner riven 
Shook to the cold night-wind of heaven 

Around the screened altar's pale; 
And there the dying lamps did burn, 
Before thy low and lonely urn, 5 

gallant Chief of Otter burne ! 

And thine, dark Knight of Liddesdale ! 
fading honours of the dead ! 
high ambition, lowly laid ! 

XI 

The moon on the east oriel shone 
Through slender shafts of shapely stone, 

By f oliaged tracery combined ; 
Thou would 'st have thought some fairy's hand 

'Twixt poplars straight the ozier wand, 5 

In many a freakish knot had twined ; 
Then framed a spell when the work was done, 
And changed the willow -wreaths to stone. 
The silver light, so pale and faint, 
Show'd many a prophet, and many a saint, 10 

Whose image on the glass was dyed ; 



CANTO SECOND 95 

Full in the midst, his Cross of Red 
Triumphant Michael brandished, 
And trampled the Apostate's pride, 
is The moonbeam kiss'd the holy pane, 

And threw on the pavement a bloody stain. 

XII 

They sate them down on a marble stone, 

(A Scottish monarch slept below) ; 
Thus spoke the Monk, in solemn tone : — 
"I was not always a man of woe; 
5 For Paynim countries I have trod, 
And fought beneath the Cross of God : 
Now, strange to my eyes thine arms appear, 
And their iron clang sounds strange to my ear. 

XIII 

44 In these far climfe.it was my lot 
To meet the wondrous Michael Scott ; 

A wizard of such dreaded fame, 
That when, in Salamanca's cave, 
5 Him listed his magic wand to wave, 

The bells would ring in Notre Dame ! 
Some of his skill he taught to me ; 
And, Warrior, I could say to thee 
The words that cleft Eildon hills in three, 
i° And bridled the Tweed with a curb of stone : 

But to speak them were a deadly sin ; 
And for having but thought them my heart 
within, 
A treble penanoe must be done. 



86 THE LAY OF THE LAST MINSTREL 

XIV 

4 'When Michael lay on his dying be 

His conscience was awakened: 

He bethought him of his sinful deed. 

And he gave me a sign to come with speed: 

I was in Spain when the morning rose, 

But I stood by his bed ere evening close. 

The words may not again be sai 

That he spoke to me. on dc ] 1 laid ; 

They would rend this Abbaye's massy nave. 

And pile it in heaps above his grave. 

XV 

"I swore to bury his Mighty Book, 
That never mortal might therein look; 

And never to tell where it was hid. 

^:;"r at his Chief of Branksome's need: 

And when that need was past and o'er. 5 

Again the volume :: restore. 

I buried him «: - - ^ _ . :. 

When the bell tolTd one, and the moon w 

brig:. , 
And I dug his chamber among the dead. 
When the floor of the chancel was stained red, 10 
That his patron's cross might over him 
And scare the fiends from the Wizard's gr:v 

XVI 

"It was a night of woe and 
When Michael in the tomb I laid! 



CANTO SECOND 87 

Strange sounds along the chancel pass'd, 
The banners waved without a blast" — 

5 Still spoke the Monk, when the bell toll'd one! — 
I tell you that a braver man 
Than William of Deloraine, good at need, 
Against a foe ne'er spurr'd a steed; 
Yet somewhat was he chill 'd with dread, 

10 And his hair did bristle upon his head. 

XVII 

"Lo, Warrior! now, the Cross of Red 
Points to the grave of the mighty dead ; 
Within it burns a wondrous light, 
To chase the spirits that love the night : 

5 That lamp shall burn unquenchably, 
Until the eternal doom shall be." — 
Slow moved the Monk to the broad flag-stone, 
Which the bloody Cross was traced upon : 
He pointed to a secret nook ; 

io An iron bar the Warrior took 

And the Monk made a sign with his withered 

hand, 
The grave's huge portal to expand. 

XVIII 

With beating heart to the task he went ; 
His sinewy frame o'er the grave-stone bent; 
With bar of iron heaved amain, 
Till the toil-drops fell from his brows, like rain. 
5 It was by dint of passing strength, 



3 THE LAY OF THE LAST MINSTREL 

That he moved the massy stone at length. 

I would you had been there to see 

How the light broke forth so gloriously, 

Stream 'd upward to the chancel roof, 

And through the galleries far aloof ! 10 

No earthly flame blazed e'er so bright: 

It shone like heaven's own blessed light, 

And, issuing from the tomb, 
Show'd the Monk's cowl, and visage pale, 
Danced on the dark-brow'd Warrior's mail, i» 

And kiss'd his waving plume. 

XIX 

Before their eyes the Wizard lay, 
As if he had not been dead a day. 
His hoary beard in silver roll'd, 
He seem'd some seventy winters old; 

A palmer's amice wrapp'd him round, 5 

With a wrought Spanish baldric bound, 
Like a pilgrim from beyond the sea : 

His left hand held his Book of Might ; 

A silver cross was in his right ; 

The lamp was placed beside his knee : 10 

High and majestic was his look, 
At which the fellest fiends had shook, 
And all unruffled was his face : 
They trusted his soul had gotten grace. 

XX 

Often had William of Deloraine 

Rode through the battle's bloody plain, 



CANTO SECOND 89 

And trampled down the warriors slain, 
And neither known remorse nor awe : 
5 Yet now remorse and awe he own'd; 

His breath came thick, his head swam round, 

When this strange scene of death he saw. 
Bewilder 'd and unnerved he stood, 
And the priest pray 'd fervently and loud : 
10 With eyes averted prayed he ; 

He might not endure the sight to see, 
Of the man he had loved so brotherly. 

XXI 

And when the priest his death-prayer had 

pray'd, 
Thus unto Deloraine he said : — 
"Now speed thee what thou hast to do, 
Or, Warrior, we may dearly rue; 

5 For those, thou may'st not look upon, 

Are gathering fast round the yawning stone!" — 
Then Deloraine, in terror, took 
From the cold hand the Mighty Book, 
With iron clasp'd, and with iron bound: 

io He thought, as he took it, the dead man 
frown'd ; 
But the glare of the sepulchral light, 
Perchance, had dazzled the Warrior's Bight. 

XXII 

When the huge stone sunk o'er the tomb, 
The night return'd in double gloom ; 



90 THE LAY OF THE LAST MINSTREL 

For the moon had gone down, and the stars were 

few; 
And, as the Knight and Priest withdrew, 
With wavering steps and dizzy brain, 5 

They hardly might the postern gain. 
'Tis said, as through the aisles they pass'd, 
They heard strange noises on the blast ; 
And through the cloister-galleries small, 
Which at mid-height thread the chancel wall, 10 
Loud sobs, and laughter louder, ran, 
And voices unlike the voice of man ; 
As if the fiends kept holiday, 
Because these spells were brought to day. 
I cannot tell how the truth may be ; 15 

I say the tale as 'twas said to me. 

XXIII 

"Now, hie thee hence," the Father said, 
"And when we are on death-bed laid, 
may our dear Ladye, and sweet St. John, 
Forgive our souls for the deed we have done!"— 
The Monk return'd him to his cell, 5 

And many a prayer and penance sped ; 
When the convent met at the noontide bell — 

The Monk of St. Mary's aisle was dead! 
Before the cross was the body laid, 
With hands clasp'd fast, as if still he pray'd. 10 

XXIV 

The Knight breathed free in the morning wind, 
And strove his hardihood to find : 



CANTO SECOND 91 

He was glad when he pass'd the tombstones grey, 
Which girdle round the fair Abbaye; 

5 For the mystic Book, to his bosom prest, 
Felt like a load upon his breast ; 
And his joints, with nerves of iron twined, 
Shook, like the aspen leaves in wind. 
Full fain was he when the dawn of day 

10 Began to brighten Cheviot grey ; 
He joy'd to see the cheerful light, 
And he said Ave Mary, as well as he might. 

XXV 

The sun had brighten' d Cheviot grey, 

The sun had brighten'd the Carter's side; 
And soon beneath the rising day 

Smiled Branksome towers and Teviot's tide. 
5 The wild birds told their warbling tale, 

And waken'd every flower that blows; 
And peeped forth the violet pale, 

And spread her breast the mountain rose. 
And lovelier than the rose so red, 
io Yet paler than the violet pale, 

She early left her sleepless bed, 

The fairest maid of Teviotdale. 

XXVI 

Why does fair Margaret so early awake, 

And don her kirtle so hastilie ; 
And the silken knots, which in hurry 6he would 
make, 



M THE LAY OF THE LAST MINSTREL 

le her slender fiusrers to tie: 
T\~hy does she stop, and look often around, B 

As she glides down the secret -rair; 
And why ..: the shaggy blood-hound, 

As she rouses him up from his La 

he passes the postern alone, 
Why is not the watchman's bugle blown? 10 

XXVII 

.ye steps in doubt and dread, 
Lest her watchful mother hear her tread; 
The Ladye caresses the rough blood-hound, 
Lest hi: ild waken the castle round; 

The watchman's bugle is not blown, 5 

For hr foster-father's son; 

And s: : igh the greenwood at dawn 

of light. 
To meet Baron Henry, her own true knight. 

XXVIII 
The Knight and La lye fair are met. 
And under the hawthorns boughs are set. 

A fairer pah' were never seen 

To meet beneath the hawthorn green. 

He was stately, ana young, and vail; 5 

Dreaded in battle, and loved in hall: 

And she. when love, scarce told, scarce hid, 

Lent to her cheek a Ir ed; 

When the half sigh her swelling breast 

Against the silken ribbon prest ; 10 



CANTO SECOND 93 

When her blue eyes their secret told, 
Though shaded by her locks of gold — 
Where would you find the peerless fair, 
With Margaret of Branksome might compare ! 

XXIX 

And now, fair dames, methinks I see 

You listen to my minstrelsy ; 

Your waving locks ye backward throw, 

And sidelong bend your necks of snow ; — 
5 Ye ween to hear a melting tale, 

Of two true lovers in a dale ; 

And how the Knight, with tender fire, 
To paint his faithful passion strove; 
Swore, he might at her feet expire, 
10 But never, never cease to love; 

And how she blush'd, and how she sigh'd, 

And, half consenting, half denied, 

And said that she would die a maid ; — 

Yet, might the bloody feud be stay'd, 
is Henry of Cranstoun, and only he, 

Margaret of Branksome's choice should be. 

XXX 

Alas! fair dames, your hopes are vain! 
My harp has lost the enchanting strain; 

Its lightness would my age reprove : 
My hairs are grey, my limbs are old, 
My heart is dead, my veins are cold; 

I may not, must not, sing of love. 



94 THE LAY OF THE LAST MINSTREL 

XXXI 

Beneath an oak, moss'd o'er by eld, 
The Baron's Dwarf his courser held, 

And held his crested helm and spear : 
That Dwarf was scarce an earthly man, 
If the tales were true that of him ran 5 

Through all the Border, far and near. 
'Twas said, when the Baron a-hunting rode 
Through Reedsdale's glens, but rarely trode, 

He heard a voice cry, "Lost! lost! lost!" 

And, like tennis-ball by racquet toss'd, 10 

A leap of thirty feet and three 

Made from the gorse this elfin shape, 

Distorted like some dwarfish ape, 

And lighted at Lord Cranstoun's knee. 

Lord Cranstoun was some whit dismay'd; 15 

'Tis said that five good miles he rade, 
To rid him of his company ; 
But where he rode one mile, the Dwarf ran four, 
And the Dwarf was first at the castle door. 

XXXII 

Use lessens marvel, it is said: 
This elvish Dwarf with the Baron stay'd; 
Little he ate, and less he spoke 
iSJor mingled with the "menial flock: 
And oft apart his arms he toss'd, 5 

And often mutter 'd, "Lost! lost! lost!" 
He was waspish, arch, and litherlie, 
But well Lord Cranstoun served he ; 



CANTO SECOND 95 

And he of his service was full fain ; 
10 For once he had been ta'en or slain, 

An' it had not been for his ministry. 
All between Home and Hermitage, 
Talk'd of Lord Cranstoun's Goblin-Page. 

XXXIII 

For the Baron went on pilgrimage, 
And took with him this elvish Page, 

To Mary's Chapel of the Lowes: 

For there, beside our Ladye's lake, 

s An offering he had sworn to make, 

And he would pay his vows. 
But the Ladye of Branksome gather 7 d a band 
Of the best that would ride at her command : 

The trysting-place was Newark Lee. 
10 Wat of Harden came thither amain, 
And thither came John of Thirlestane, 
And thither came William of Deloraine ; 

They were three hundred spears and three. 
Through Douglas-burn, up Yarrow stream, 
15 Their horses prance, their lances gleam. 
They came to St. Mary's lake ere day ; 
But the chapel was void, and the Baron away. 
They burn'd the chapel for very rage, 
And cursed Lord Cranstoun's Goblin- Page. 

XXXIV 

And now, in Branksome's good green wood, 
As under the aged oak he stood, 
The Baron's courser pricks his ears. 



96 THE LAY OF THE LAST MINSTREL 

As if a distant noise he hears. 

The Dwarf waves his long lean arm on high, 5 

And signs to the lovers to part and fly ; 

No time was then to vow or sigh. 

Fair Margaret, through the hazel grove, 

Flew like the startled cushat-dove : 

The Dwarf the stirrup held and rein ; 10 

Vaulted the Knight on his steed amain, 

And, pondering deep that morning's scene, 

Kode eastward through the hawthorns green. 

{Interlude) 
While thus he pour'd the lengthen 'd tale, 
The Minstrel's voice began to fail: 
Full slyly smiled the observant page, 
And gave the wither 'd hand of age 
A goblet, crown 'd with mighty wine, 5 

The blood of Velez' scorched vine. 
He raised the silver cup on high, 
And, while the big drop fill'd his eye, 
Pray'd God to bless the Duchess long, 
And all who cheer 'd a son of song. 10 

The attending maidens smiled to see 
How long, how deep, how zealously, 
The precious juice the Minstrel quaff 'd; 
And he, embolden'd by the draught, 
Look'd gaily back to them, and laugh 'd* 15 

The cordial nectar of the bowl 
Swell 'd his old veins, and cheer'd his soul; 
A lighter, livelier prelude ran, 
Ere thus his tale again began. 



CANTO THIRD 

I 

And said I that my limbs were old, 
And said I that my blood was cold, 
And that my kindly fire was fled, 
And my poor wither 'd heart was dead, 

5 And that I might not sing of love? — 

How could I to the dearest theme, 
That ever warm'd a minstrel's dream, 

So foul, so false a recreant prove! 
How could I name Love's very name, 

10 Nor wake my heart to notes of flame ! 

II 

In peace, Love tunes the shepherd's reed; 
In war, he mounts the warrior's steed; 
In halls, in gay attire is seen; 
In hamlets, dances on the green. 
5 Love rules the court, the camp, the grove, 
And men below, and saints above; 
For love is heaven, and heaven is love. 

Ill 

So thought Lord Cranstoun, as I ween, 

While, pondering deep the tender scene, 

He rode through Branksome's hawthorn green. 

97 



98 THE LAY OF THE LAST MINSTREL 

But the page shouted wild and shrill — 

And scarce his helmet could he don, 5 

When downward from the shady hill 
A stately knight came pricking on. 
That warrior's steed, so dapple-grey, 
Was dark with sweat, and splashed with clay; 

His armour red with many a stain : 10 

He seem'd in such a weary plight, 
As if he had ridden the livelong night : 

For it was William of Deloraine. 

IV 

But no whit weary did he seem, 
When, dancing in the sunny beam, 
He mark'd the crane on the Baron's crest, 
For his ready spear was in his rest. 

Few were the words, and stern and high, 5 

That mark'd the foeman's feudal hate; 

For question fierce, and proud reply, 
Gave signal soon of dire debate. 
Their very coursers seem'd to know 
That each was other's mortal foe, io 

And snorted fire, when wheel'd around, 
To give each knight his vantage-ground. 

V 

In rapid round the Baron bent : 

He sigh'd a sigh, and pray'd a prayer; 

The prayer was to his patron saint, 
The sigh was to his ladye fair. 



CANTO THIRD 99 

5 Stout Deloraine nor sigh'd nor pray'd, 
Nor saint, nor ladye, call'd to aid; 
But he stoop'd his head, and couch'd his spear, 
And spurred his steed to full career. 
The meeting of these champions proud 
10 Seem'd like the bursting thunder-cloud. 

VI 

Stern was the dint the Borderer lent ! 

The stately Baron backwards bent ; 

Bent backwards to his horse's tail, 

And his plumes went scattering on the gale ; 

The tough ash spear, so stout and true, 

Into a thousand flinders flew. 

But Cranstoun's lance, of more avail, 

Pierced through, like silk, the Borderer s mail; 

Through shield, and jack, and acton, past, 

io Deep in his bosom broke at last. — 
Still sate the warrior, saddle-fast, 
Till, stumbling in the mortal shock, 
Down went the steed, the girthing broke, 
Hurl'd on a heap lay man and horse. 

15 The Baron onward pass'd his course; 
Nor knew — so giddy roll 'd his brain — 
His foe lay stretched upon the plain. 

VII 
But when he rein'd his courser round, 
And saw his foeman on the ground 
Lie senseless as the blood y clay. 



1 : : THE LAY OF THE LAST MINSTREL 

He bade his page to stanch the wound. 

And there beside the warrior stay. 5 

And tend him in his doubtful state. 
And lead him to Branksome castle-gate : 
His noble mind was inly moved 
For the kinsman of the maid he loved. 
"This shalt thou do without delay: 10 

Xo longer here myself may stay; 
Unless the swifter I speed away. 
Short shrift will be at my dying day." 

VIII 

Away in speed Lord Cranstoun rode; 

The Goblin-Page behind abode; 

His lord's command he ne'er withstood, 

Though small his pleasure to do good. 

As the corslet off he took. 

The Dwarf espied the Mighty Book ! 

Much he niarveU'd a knight of pride. 

Like a book-bosonvd priest should ride: 

He thought not to search or stanch the wound 

Until the secret he had found. 10 

IX 
The iron band, the iron clasp, 
Eesisted long the elfin grasp : 
For when the first he had undone, 
It closed as he the next begun. 
Those iron clasps, that iron band, 5 

Would not yield to unehristen'd hand. 



CANTO THIRD 101 

Till he smear 'd the cover o'er 
With the Borderer's curdled gore; 
A moment then the volume spread, 
10 And one short spell therein he read. 
It had much of glamour might, 
Could make a ladye seem a knight ; 
The cobwebs on a dungeon wall 
Seem tapestry in lordly hall; 

15 A nut-shell seem a gilded barge, 
A sheeling seem a palace large, 

And youth seem age, and age seem youth — 
All was delusion, nought was truth. 

X 

He had not read another spell, 

When on his cheek a buffet fell, 

So fierce it stretch'd him on the plain, 

Beside the wounded Deloraine. 
s From the ground he rose dismay'd, 

And shook his huge and matted head ; 

One word he mutter 'd and no more, 

"Man of age, thou smitest sore!" 

No more the Elfin Page durst try 
io Into the wondrous Book to pry; 

The clasps, though smear 'd with Christian gore, 

Shut faster than they were before. 

He hid it underneath his cloak. — 

Now, if you ask who £ave the stroke, 

16 I cannot tell, so mot 1 thrive; 
It was not given by man alive. 



THE LAY OF THE LAST MINSTREL 

XI 

Unwillingly himself he address M 
To do his master's high behest: 
Be lifted up the living corse, 

And laid it on the weary horse; 
Be led him into Branksome Ball, 

Before the beards of the warders all ; 

And each did after -wear and bi 

There only pass'd a wain of hay. 

He took him to Lord David's tower, 

Even to the Ladye's secret bower: iu 

And, but that stronger spells were spread, 

And the door might not be opened. 

lie had laid him on her very bed. 

Whatever he did of gramarye. 

Was always done maliciously; 16 

He flung the warrior on the ground, 

And the blood wellM freshly from the wound. 

XII 

As he repassed the outer court, 

He spied the fair young child at sport : 

He thought to train him to the wood ; 

For, at a word, be it understood. 

He was always for ill, and never for good. 

Seem'd to the boy, some comrade gay 

Led him forth to the woods to play ; 

On the drawbridge the warders stout 

Saw a terrier and lurcher passing out. 



CANTO THIRD 103 

XIII 

He led the boy o'er bank and fell, 

Until they came to the woodland brook ; 
The running stream dissolved the spell, 
And his own elfish shape he took. 
b Could he have had his pleasure vilde. 

He had crippled the joints of the noble child; 
Or, with his fingers long and lean, 
Had strangled him in fiendish spleen : 
But his awful mother he had in dread, 
10 And also his power was limited ; 

So he but scowPd on the startled child, 

And darted through the forest wild ; 

The woodland brook he bounding cross'd, 

And laugh'd, and shouted, "Lost! lost! lost!" — 

XIV 

Full sore amaz'd at the wondrous change, 

And frighten'd as a child might be, 
At the wild yell and visage strange, 
And the dark words of gramarye, 
5 The child, amidst the forest bower, 
Stood rooted like a lily flower ; 

And when at length, with trembling pace, 
He sought to find where Branksome lay, 
He fear'd to see that grisly face 
10 Glare from some thicket on his way. 

Thus, starting oft, he journey'd on, 
And deeper in the wood is gone, — 



104 THE LAY OF THE LAST MINSTREL 

For aye the more he sought his way, 

The farther still he went astray, — 

Lentil he heard the mountains round is 

Ring to the baying of a hound. 



XV 

And hark! and hark! the deep-mouth 'd 
bark 

Comes nigher still, and nigher ; 
Bursts on the path a dark blood-hound, 
His tawny muzzle track 'd the ground, 

And his red eye shot fire. 
Soon as the wilder 'd child saw he, 
He flew at him right furiouslie. 
I ween you would have seen with joy 
The bearing of the gallant boy, 
When, worthy of his noble sire, 10 

His wet cheek glow'd 'twixt fear and ire! 
He faced the blood-hound manfully, 
And held his little bat on high ; 
So fierce he struck, the dog, afraid, 
At cautious distance hoarsely bay'd, is 

But still in act to spring ; 
When dash'd an archer through the glade, 
And when he saw the hound was stay'd, 

He drew his tough bow-string; 
But a rough voice cried, "Shoot not, hoy! &o 

Ho! shoot not, Edward — 'Tie a boy!" 



CANTO THIRD 103 

XVI 

The speaker issued from the wood, 
And check'd his fellow's surly mood, 

And quell 'd the ban-dog's ire: 
He was an English yeoman good, 
5 And born in Lancashire. 

Well could he hit a fallow deer 

Five hundred feet him fro ; 
With hand more true and eye more clear, 

No archer bended bow. 
10 His coal-black hair, shorn round and close, 

Set off his sun-burn'd face; 
Old England's sign, St. George's cross, 

His barret-cap did grace ; 
His bugle-horn hung by his side, 
is AH in a wolf -skin baldric tied ; 

And his short falchion, sharp and clear, 
Had pierced the throat of many a deer. 

XVII 

His kirtle, made of forest green, 

Reached scantly to his knee ; 
And, at his belt, of arrows keen 

A furbish 'd sheaf bore he; 
s His buckler scarce in breadth a span, 

No larger fence had he; 
He never counted him a man, 

Would strike below the knee: 
II is slacken'd bow was in his hand, 
to And the leash, thai wbs his blood-hound'a band. 



106 THE LAY OF THE LAST MINSTREL 

XVIII 
He would not do the fair child harm, 
But held him with his powerful arm, 
That he might neither fight nor flee: 
For when the Red-Cross spied he, 
The boy strove long and violently. s 

(i Xow, by St. George." the archer cries, 
'^Edward, methinks we have a prize! 
This boy's fair face, and courage free, 
Show he is come of high degree/' — 

XIX 
u Yes! I am come of high degree. 

For I am the heir of bold Buccleuch ; 
And, if thou dost not set me free. 

False Southron, thou shalt dearly rue ! 
For Walter of Harden shall come with speed, 5 
And William of Deloraine, good at need. 
And every Scott, from Esk to Tweed; 
And, if thou dost not let me go, 
Despite thy arrows, and thy bow, 
I'll have thee hang'd to feed the crow!" 2U 

XX 

fi Gramercy, for thy good will, fair boy! 
My mind was never set so high ; 
But if thou art chief of such a clan, 
And art the son of such a man, 
And ever comest to thy command, 5 

Our wardens had need to keep good order ; 



CANTO THIRD 10? 

My bow of yew to a hazel wand, 

Thou 'It make them work upon the Border. 
Meantime, be pleased to come with me, 
10 For good Lord Dacre shalt thou see; 
I think our work is well begun, 
When we have taken thy father's son." 

XXI 

Although the child was led away, 
In Branksome still he seem'd to stay, 
For so the Dwarf his part did play ; 
And, in the shape of that young boy, 

s He wrought the castle much annoy. 
The comrades of the young Buccleuch 
He pinch'd, and beat, and overthrew; 
Nay, some of them he wellnigli slew. 
He tore Dame Maudlin's silken tire, 

io And, as Sym Hall stood by the fire, 
He lighted the match of his bandelier, 
And wofully scorch 'd the hackbuteer. 
It may be hardly thought or said, 
The mischief that the urchin made, 

15 Till many of the castle guess 'd, 

That the young Baron was possess 'd! 

XXII 

Well I ween the charm he held 
The noble Ladye had soon dispell'd ; 
But she was deeply busied then 
To tend the wounded Deloraine. 



108 THE LAY OF THE LAST MINSTREL 

Much she wonder 'd to find him lie, 5 

On the stone threshold stretch'd along; 
She thought some spirit of the sky 

Had done the bold moss-trooper wrong; 
Because, despite her precept dread, 
Perchance he in the Book had read ; 10 

But the broken lance in his bosom stood, 
And it was earthly steel and wood. 

XXIII 

She drew the splinter from the wound, 
And with a charm she stanched the blood; 

She bade the gash be cleansed and bound ; 
Xo longer by his couch she stood ; 

But she has ta'en the broken lance, 5 

And waslrd it from the clotted gore, 
And salved the splinter o'er and o'er. 

William of Deloraine, in trance. 

Whene'er she turivd it round and round, 
Twisted as if she gall'd his wound. 10 

Then to her maidens she did say. 
That he should be whole man and sound, 
Within the course of a night and day. 

Full long she toil'd: for she did rue 

Mishap to friend so stout and true. 15 

XXIV 

So pass'd the day — the evening fell. 
Twas near the time of curfew bell: 
The air was mild, the wind Im, 



CANTO THIRD 109 

The stream was smooth, the dew was balm; 
5 E'en the rude watchman, on the tower, 

Enjoy'd and bless 'd the lovely hour. 

Far more fair Margaret loved and bless 'd 

The hour of silence and of rest. 

On the high turret sitting lone, 
10 She waked at times the lute's soft tone ; 

Touch'd a wild note, and all between 

Thought of the bower of hawthorns green. 

Her golden hair stream 'd free from band, 

Her fair cheek rested on her hand, 
is Her blue eyes sought the west afar, 

For lovers love the western star. 

XXV 

Is yon the star, o'er Penchryst Pen, 
That rises slowly to her ken, 
And spreading broad its wavering light, 
Shakes its loose tresses on the night? 
5 Is yon red glare the western star? — 
Oh ! 'tis the beacon-blaze of war ! 
Scarce could she draw her tighten'd breath, 
For well she knew the fire of death ! 

XXVI 

The Warder view'd it blazing strong, 
And blew his war-note loud and long, 
Till, at the high and haughty sound, 
Rock, wood, and river, rung around. 
5 The blast alarm'd the festal hall, 
And startled forth the warriors all; 



110 THE LAY OF THE LAST MINSTREL 

Far downward in the castle-yard, 

Full many a torch and cresset glared ; 

And helms and plumes, confusedly toss'd, 

Were in the blaze half -seen, half -lost ; 10 

And spears in wild disorder shook, 

Like reeds beside a frozen brook. 

XXVII 

The Seneschal, whose silver hair 

Was redden'd by the torches' glare, 

Stood in the midst, with gesture proud, 

And issued forth his mandates loud : — 

"On Penchryst glows a bale of fire, 5 

And three are kindling on Pries thaughs wire : 

Ride out, ride out, 

The foe to scout ! 
Mount, mount for Branksome, every man! 
Thou, Todrig, warn the Johnstone clan, i° 

That ever are true and stout— 
Ye need not send to Liddesdale ; 
For, when they see the blazing bale, 
Elliots and Armstrongs never fail. — 
Ride, Alton, ride, for death and life! 15 

And warn the Warder of the strife.— 
Young Gilbert, let our beacon blaze, 
Our kin, and clan, and friends, to raise." 

XXVIII 

Fair Margaret, from the turret head, 
Heard, far below, the coursers' tread, 



CANTO THIRD 111 

While loud the harness rung, 
As to their seats, with clamour dread, 
5 The ready horsemen sprung : 

And trampling hoofs, and iron coats, 
And leaders' voices, mingled notes, 
And out ! and out ! 
In hasty rout, 
10 The horsemen gallop 'd forth ; 

Dispersing to the south to scout, 
And east, and west, and north, 
To view their coming enemies, 
And warn their vassals and allies. 

XXIX 

The ready page, with hurried hand, 

Awaked the need-fire's slumbering brand, 
And ruddy blush 'd the heaven : 

For a sheet of flame, from the turret high, 
5 Waved like a blood-flag on the sky, 
All flaring and uneven ; 

And soon a score of fires, I ween, 

From height, and hill, and cliff, were seen; 

Each with war -like tidings fraught ; 
10 Each from each the signal caught ; 

Each after each they glanced to sight, 

As stars arise upon the night, 

They gleam 'd on many a dusky tarn, 

Haunted by the lonely earn ; 
15 On many a cairn's grey pyramid, 

Where urns of mighty chiefs lie hid; 



112 THE LAY OF THE LAST MINSTREL 

Till high Dunedin the blazes saw. 

From Soltra and Durnpender Law ; 

And Lothian heard the Regent's order, 

That all should bowne them for the Border. s? 

XXX 
The livelong night in Brankaome rang 

1"-_t - :■"::.: 

Ti;e castle-bell, with backward clang, 

Sent forth the larum peal ; 
Was frequent heard the heavy - 5 

Where mas _r and iron bar 

Were piled on echoing keep and tower, 
To whelm the foe with deadly shower ; 
Was frequent heard the changing guard. 
And watch-word from the sleepless ward; 10 

While, wearied by the endless din. 
Blood-hound and ban-dog yell'd within. 

XXXI 
The noble Dame, amid the broil, 
Shared the grey Seneschal's high toil. 
And spoke of danger with a smile ; 
Cheer "d the young knights, and council sage 
Held with the shiefs of riper age. 5 

No tidings of the foe were brought. 
N« of his numbers knew they aught. 
Not what in time of truce he sought. 

•ere thousands ten; 
3 ireen'd that it was nought 10 



CANTO THIRD 113 

But Leven Clans, or Tynedale men, 
Who came to gather in black mail ; 
And Liddesdale, with small avail, 
Might drive them lightly back agen. 
15 So pass'd the anxious night away, 
And welcome was the peep of day. 

(Interlude) 

Ceased the high sound — the listening throng 

Applaud the Master of the Song ; 

And marvel much, in helpless age, 

So hard should be his pilgrimage. 
5 Had he no friend — no daughter dear, 

His wandering toil to share and cheer ; 

No son to be his father's stay, 

And guide him on the rugged way? 

"Ay, once he had — but he was dead!" — 
10 Upon the harp he stoop'd his head, 

And busied himself the strings withal, 

To hide the tear that fain would fall. 

In solemn measure, soft and slow, 

Arose a father's notes of woe. 



CANTO FOURTH 

I 
Sweet Teviot ! on thy silver tide 

The glaring bale-fires blaze no more; 
No longer steel-clad warriors ride 

Along thy wild and willow'd shore; 
Where'er thou wind'st, by dale or hill, 5 

All. all is peaceful, all is still. 

As if thy waves, since Time was born, 
Since first they roll'd upon the T\\ ■»■• 
Had only heard the shepherd's reed, 

Nor started at the bugle-horn. 10 

II 

Unlike the tide of human time, 

Which, though it change in ceaseless flow, 
Retains each grief, retains each crime 

Its earliest course was doom'd to know; 
And, darker as it downward bears, ^ 

Is stain 'd with past and present 

Low as that tide has ebb'd with me, 
It still reflects to Memory's eye 
The hour my brave, my only boy, 

Fell by the Bide of great Dundee. 10 

Why, when the volleying musket play'd 
Against the bloody Highland blade, 

114 



canto FOURTH 1 Lfi 

Why was not I beside him laid? — 

Enough — be died the death of fame; 
is Enough— -he died with conquering Ghrieme. 

Ill 

Now over Border dale and fell, 

Full wide and far was terror spread; 
For pathless marsh, and mountain cell, 

The peasant left his lowly shod. 
5 Tho frighten'd (locks and herds were pent 

Beneath the peel's rude battlement; 
And maids and matrons dropp'd the tear, 

While ready warriors seizM tho spear. 

From Branksome's towers, the watchman's eye 

10 Dun wreaths of distant smoke can spy, 
Which, ourling in the rising sun, 
Show'd southern ravage was begun. 

IV 
Now loud the heedful gate- Ward cried — 

14 Prepare ye all for blows and blood! 
Watt Tinlinn, from the Liddel-side, 

Comes wading through the Hood. 

Full oft the Tynedale snatchers knock 

At liis lone gate, and prove the look; 

It was but last St. Barnabrighl 

They sieged him a whole summer night, 
Hut fled at morning; Well they knew, 
in In vain he never twangM the yew. 

Right sharp has been tin' evening shower, 



116 THE LAY OF THE LAST MINSTREL 

That drove him from his Liddel-tower ; 
And. by my faith,'' the gate-ward said. 
4i I think 'twill prove a Warden-Bald." 

V 

While thus he spoke, the bold yeoman 

Enter 'd the echoing barbican. 

He led a small and shaggy nag. 

That through a bog. from hag to hag, 

Could bound like any Billhope stag. 5 

It bore his wife and children twain ; 

A half-clothed serf was all then' train: 

His wife, stout, ruddy, and dark-brow' d. 

Of silver brooch and bracelet proud. 

Laugh' d to her friends among the crowd. 10 

He was of stature passing tall. 

But sparely form'd and lean withal; 

A batter d morion on his brow; 

A leather jack, as fence enow. 

On his broad shoulders loosely hung; is 

A Border axe behind was slung : 

His spear, six Scottish ells in length, 

Seem'd newly dyed with gore; 
Hi? shafts and bow. of wondrous strength, 

His hardy partner bore. * 

VI 

Thus to the Ladye did Tinlinn show 
The tidings of the English foe : — 
"Belted Will Howard is marching here. 
And hot Lord Caere, with many a spear. 



CANTO FOURTH 11? 

5 And all the German hackbut-men, 

Who have long lain at Askerten : 

They cross 'd the Liddel at curfew hour, 

And burned my little lonely tower : 

The fiend receive their souls therefor ! 
10 It had not been burnt this year and more. 

Barn-yard and dwelling, blazing bright, 

Served to guide me on my flight ; 

But I was chased the livelong night. 

Black John of Akeshaw, and Fergus Graeme, 
15 Fast upon my traces came, 

Until I turned at Priesthaugh Scrogg, 

And shot their horses in the bog, 

Slew Fergus with my lance outright — 

I had him long at high despite ; 
20 He drove my cows last Fastern's night." 

VII 

Now weary scouts from Liddesdale, 
Fast hurrying in, confirmed the tale; 
As far as they could judge by ken, 

Three hours would bring to Teviot's strand 
Three thousand armed Englishmen — 
Meanwhile, full many a warlike band, 
From Teviot, Aill, and Ettrick shade, 
Came in, their Chief's defence to aid. 

There was saddling and mounting in haste, 
10 There was pricking o'er moor and lea ; 

He that was last at the trysting-plaoe 
Was but lightly held of his gay ladye. 



118 THE LAY OF THE LAST MINSTREL 

VIII 

From fair St. Mary's silver wave, 

From dreary Gamescleugh's dusky height, 
His ready lances Thirlestane brave 

Array' d beneath a banner bright. 
The tressured fleur-de-luce he claims s 

To wreathe his shield, since royal James, 
Encamp'd by Fala's mossy wave, 
The proud distinction grateful gave, 

For faith 'mid feudal jars; 
What time, save Thirlestane alone, 10 

Of Scotland's stubborn barons none 

Would march to southern wars ; 
And hence, in fair remembrance worn, 
Yon sheaf of spears his crest has borne ; 
Hence his high motto shines reveal' d— is 

"Ready, aye ready," for the field. 

IX 

An aged Knight, to danger steel'd, 
With many a moss-trooper, came on; 

And, azure in a golden field, 

The stars and crescent graced his shield, 

Without the bend of Murdieston. 5 

Wide lay his lands round Oakwood tower, 

And wide round haunted Castle-Ower; 

High over Borthwick's mountain flood, 

His wood-embosom'd mansion stood ; 

In the dark glen, so deep below, 10 

The herds of plunder'd England low; 



CANTO FOURTH 119 

His bold retainers' daily food, 
And bought with danger, blows, and blood. 
Marauding chief ! his sole delight 
is The moonlight raid, the morning fight ; 
Not even the Flower of Yarrow's charms, 
In youth, might tame his rage for arms ; 
And still, in age, he spurn'd at rest, 
And still his brows the helmet press 'd, 
20 Albeit the blanched locks below 

Were white as Dinlay's spotless snow; 
Five stately warriors drew the sword 

Before their father's band; 
A braver knight than Harden 's lord 
25 Ne'er belted on a brand. 

X 

Scotts of Eskdale, a stalwart band, 
Came trooping down the Todshawhill ; 

By the sword they won their land, 
And by the sword they hold it still, 
s Hearken, Ladye, to the tale, 

How thy sires won fair Eskdale. — 

Earl Morton was lord of that valley fair, 

The Beattisons were his vassals there. 

The Earl was gentle, and mild of mood, 
10 The vassals were warlike, and fierce, and rude; 

High of heart, and haughty of word, 

Little they reck'd of a tame liege lord. 

The Earl into fair Eskdale came, 

Homage and seignory to claim: 



120 THE LAY OF THE LAST MINSTREL 

Of Gilbert the Galliard a heriot he sought, is 

Saying, "Give thy best steed, as a vassal ought." 

— "Dear to me is my bonny white steed, 

Oft has he help'd me at pinch of need; 

Lord and Earl though thou be, I trow, 

I can rein Bucksfoot better than thou." — 20 

Word on word gave fuel to fire, 

Till so highly blazed the Beattison's ire, 

But that the Earl the flight had ta'en, 

The vassals there their lord had slain. 

Sore he plied both whip and spur, 25 

As he urged his steed through Eskdale muir ; 

And it fell down a weary weight, 

Just on the threshold of Branksome gate. 

XI 

The Earl was a wrathful man to see, 

Full fain avenged would he be. 

In haste to Branksome 's Lord he spoke, 

Saying, "Take these traitors to thy yoke; 

For a cast of hawks and a purse of gold, 5 

All Eskdale I'll sell thee, to have and hold: 

Beshrew thy heart, of the Beattison's clan 

If thou leavest on Eske a landed man ; 

But spare "YToodkerrick's lands alone, 

For he lent me his horse to escape upon". 10 

A glad man then was Branksome bold, 

Down he flung him the purse of gold ; 

To Eskdale soon he spurr'd amain, 

And with him five hundred riders has ta'en. 



CANTO FOURTH 121 

is He left his merrymen in the mist of the hill, 
And bade them hold them close and still ; 
And alone he wended to the plain, 
To meet with the Galliard and all his train. 
To Gilbert the Galliard thus he said: 

80 "Know thou me for thy liege lord and head; 
Deal not with me as with Morton tame, 
For Scotts play best at the roughest game. 
Give me in peace my heriot due, 
Thy bonny white steed, or thou shalt rue. 

96 If my horn I three times wind, 
• Eskdale shall long have the sound in mind." — 

XII 

Loudly the Beattison laughed in scorn ; 
"Little care we for thy winded horn. 
Ne'er shall it be the Galliard's lot, 
To yield his steed to a haughty Scott. 

s Wend thou to Branksome back on foot, 
With rusty spur and miry boot". — 
He blew his bugle so loud and hoarse, 
That the dun deer started at fair Craikcross ; 
lie blew again so loud and clear, 

10 Through the grey mountain mist there did 
lances appear ; 
And the third blast rang with such a din. 
That the echoes answer 'd from Pentoun-linn, 
And all his riders came lightly in. 
Then had you seen a gallant shock, 

is When saddles were emptied, and lancee broke! 



122 THE LAY OF THE LAST MINSTREL 

For each scornful word the Galliard had said. 

A Beattison on the field was laid. 

His own good sword the chieftain drew, 

And he bore the Galliard through and through; 

Where the Beattisons' blood mix'd with the rill, 20 

The Galliard *s Hangh men call it still. 

The Scotts hare scatter' d the Beattison clan. 

In Eskdale they left but one landed man. 

The valley of Eske, from mouth to the source. 

Was lost and won for that bonny white horse. « 

XIII 
Whitslade the Hawk, and Headshaw came, 
And warriors more than I may name ; 
From Yarrow-cleugh to Hindhaugh-swair, 

From Woodhouslie to Chester-glen, 
Troop 'd man and horse, and bow and spear; 5 

Their gathering word was Bellenden. 
And better hearts o'er Border sod 
To siege or rescue never rode. 

The Laclye mark'd the aids come in, 

And high her heart of pride arose: 10 

she bade her youthful son attend, 
That he might know his father's friend, 

And learn to face his foes. 
4 'The boy is ripe to look on war; 

I saw him draw a cross-bow stiff, 15 

And his true arrow struck afar 
The raven's nest upon the cliff; 
The red cross, on a southern breast, 



CANTO FOURTH 123 

Is broader than the raven's nest: 
20 Thou, Whitslade, shall teach him his weapon to 
wield, 
And o'er him hold his father's shield." 

XIV 

Well may you think, the wily page 

Cared not to face the Ladye sage. 

He counterfeited childish fear, 

And shriek'd and shed full many a tear, 
s And moan'd and plain'd in manner wild. 

The attendants to the Ladye told, 
Some fairy, sure, had changed the child, 
That wont to be so free and bold. 

Then wrathful was the noble dame ; 
io She blush'd blood-red for very shame: — 

4 'Hence! ere the clan his faintness view; 

Hence with the weakling to Buccleuch ! — 

AVatt Tinlinn, thou shalt be his guide 

To Rangleburn's lonely side. — 
is Sure some fell fiend has cursed our line, 

That coward should e'er be son of mine!" — 

XV 

A heavy task Watt Tinlinn had, 
To guide the counterfeited lad. 
Soon as the palfrey felt the weight 
Of that ill-omen'd elfish freight, 
5 He bolted, sprung, and rear'd amain, 
Nor heeded bit, nor curb, nor rein. 
It cost Watt Tinlinn mickle toil 



1*24 THE LAY OF THE LAST MINSTREL 

To drive him but a Scottish mile; 

But as a shallow brook they cross 
The elf. amid the running stream. 10 

His figure changed, like form in dream. 

I Bed, and shouted, "Lost! lost! lost!" 
Full fast the urchin ran and laugh/ d. 
But faster still a cloth-yard shaft 

listled from startled Tinlinn's yew. 15 

jed his shoulder through and through. 
Although the imp might not be shun, 
And though the wound soon heal'd again, 
Yet as he ran he yell'd for pain; 
And TTatt of Tinlinn. much aghast, a> 

Bode back to Branksome fiery fast. 

XVI 
Sc :n on the hill's steep verge he at 
That looks o'er Branksome's towers and wood: 
And martial murmurs, from below. 
Proclaimed the approaching southern f 

trough the dark wood, in mingled tone, 5 

Were Border pipes and buglee . 
The coursers' neighing he could ken. 
A measured tread of marching men ; 
Whi ce at times the solemn hum. 

The Almayn's sullen kettle-drum; 10 

And banners, tall of crimson sheen. 
Above the copse appear ; 

And, glistening through the hawthorns green, 
v !-!:.t helm, a:: 1 spear. 



CANTO FOURTH 125 

XVII 

Light forayers, first, to view the ground, 
Spurr'd their fleet coursers loosely round; 
Behind, in close array and fast, 
The Kendal archers, all in green, 
5 Obedient to the bugle blast, 

Advancing from the wood were seen. 
To back and guard the archer band, 
Lord Dacre's bill-men were at hand: 
A hardy race, on Irthing bred, 
i () With kirtles white, and crosses red, 
Array' d beneath the banner tall, 
That stream'd o'er Acre's conquer 'd wall; 
And minstrels, as they march 'd in order, 
Play'd, "Noble Lord Dacre, he dwells on the 
Border." 

XVIII 

Behind the English bill and bow, 
The mercenaries, firm and slow, 

Moved on to fight, in dark array, 
By Conrad led of Wolfenstein, 
5 Who brought the band from distant Rhine, 

And sold their blood for foreign pay. 
The camp their home, their law the sword, 
They knew no country, own'd no lord : 
They were not arm'd like England's son^, 
io Hut bore the levin-darting guns; 

Buff coats, all frounced and 'broider'd o'er, 
And morsmg-horns and scarfs they wore; 



126 THE LAY OF THE LAST MINSTREL 

Each better knee was bared, to aid 

The warriors in the escalade ; 

All, as they march'd, in rugged tongue, is 

Songs of Teutonic feuds they sung. 

XIX 

But louder still the clamour grew, 

And louder still the minstrels blew, 

When, from beneath the greenwood tree, 

Eode forth Lord Howard's chivalry; 

His men-at-arms, with glaive and spear, s 

Brought up the battle's glittering rear, 

There many a youthful knight, full keen 

To gain his spurs, in arms was seen; 

With favour in his crest, or glove, 

Memorial of his ladye-love. 10 

So rode they forth in fair array, 

Till full their lengthened lines display; 

Then call'd a halt, and made a stand, 

And cried, "St. George, for merry England!'' 

XX 

Now every English eye, intent 

On Branksome's armed towers was bent; 

So near they were, that they might know 

The straining harsh of each cross-bow ; 

On battlement and bartisan 5 

Gleam'd axe, and spear, and partisan; 

Falcon and culver, on each tower, 

Stood prompt their deadly hail to shower; 



CANTO FOURTH 127 

And flashing armour frequent broke 
10 From eddying whirls of sable smoke, 

Where upon tower and turret head, 

The seething pitch and molten lead 

Reek'd like a witch's caldron red. 

While yet they gaze, the bridges fall, 
15 The wicket opes, and from the wall 

Rides forth the hoary Seneschal. 

XXI 

Armed he rode, all save the head, 

His white beard o'er his breast-plate spread; 

Unbroke by age, erect his seat, 

He ruled his eager courser's gait; 
5 Forced him, with chasten'd fire, to prance, 

And high curvetting, slow advance : 

In sign of truce, his better hand, 

Display 'd a peeled willow wand; 

His squire, attending in the rear, 
io Bore high a gauntlet on a spear. 

When they espied him riding out, 

Lord Howard and Lord Dacre stout 

Sped to the front of their array, 

To hear what this old knight should say. 

XXII 

4 'Ye English warden lords, of you 
Demands the Ladye of Buccleuch, 
Why, 'gainst the truce of Border tide, 



128 THE LAY OF THE LAST MINSTREL 

In hostile guise ye dare to ride, 

With Kendal bow and Gilsland brand, 5 

And all yon mercenary band 

Upon the bounds of fair Scotland? 

My Ladye reads you swith return ; 

And, if but one poor straw you burn, 

Or do our towers so much molest, 10 

As scare one swallow from her nest, 

St. Mary! but we'll light a brand 

Shall warm your hearths in Cumberland. " 

XXIII 

A wrathful man was Dacre's lord, 

But calmer Howard took the word : 

"May't please thy Dame, Sir Seneschal, 

To seek the castle's outward wall, 

Our pursuivant-at-arms shall show 5 

Both why we came, and when we go." 

The message sped, the noble Dame 

To the wall's outward circle came; 

Each chief around lean'd on his spear, 

To see the pursuivant appear. 10 

All in Lord Howard's livery dress 'd, 

The lion argent deck'd his breast; 

He led a boy of blooming hue — 

sight to meet a mother's view ! 

It was the heir of great Buccleuch. io 

Obeisance meet the herald made, 

And thus his master's will he said:— 



CANTO FOURTH 129 

XXIV 

"It irks, high Dame, my noble Lords 
'Gainst ladye fair to draw their swords ; 
But yet they may not tamely see, 
All through the Western Wardenry, 
5 Your law-contemning kinsmen ride, 
And burn and spoil the Border-side; 
And ill beseems your rank and birth 
To make your towers a flemens -firth. 
We claim from thee William of Deloraine, 

w That he may suffer march-treason pain. 
It was but last St. Cuthbert's even 
He prick'd to Stapleton on Leven, 
Harried the lands of Richard Musgrave, 
And slew his brother by dint of glaive. 

is Then, since a lone and widow 'd Dame 
These restless riders may not tame, 
Either receive within thy towers 
Two hundred of my master's powers, 
Or straight they sound their warrison, 

20 And storm and spoil thy garrison : 
And this fair boy, to London led, 
Shall good King Edward's page be bred." 

XXV 

He ceased — and loud the boy did cry, 
And stretch 'd his little arms on high ; 
Implored for aid each well-known face, 
And strove to seek the Dame's embrace. 
5 A moment changed that Ladye 's cheer, 



130 THE LAY OF THE LAST MINSTREL 

Gnsird to her eye the unbidden tear; 

She gazed upon the leaders round, 

And dark and sad each warrior frown 'd; 

Then, deep within her sobbing breast 

She lock'd the struggling sigh to rest ; 10 

TTnalter'd and collected stood, 

And thus replied, in dauntless mood: — 

XXVI 

"Say to your Lords of high emprize, 
Who war on women and on boys, 
That either William of Deloraine 
Will cleanse him, by oath, of march-treason stain, 
Or else he will the combat take 5 

'Gainst Musgrave, for his honour's sake. 
No knight in Cumberland so good, 
But William may count with him kin and blood. 
Knighthood he took of Douglas' sword, 
When English blood swell'd Ancram's ford; 10 

And but Lord Dacre's steed was wight, 
And bare him ably in the flight, 
Himself had seen him dubb 'd a knight. 
For the young heir of Branksome's line, 
God be his aid, and God be mine ; 15 

Through me no friend shall meet his doom ; 
Here, while I live, no foe finds room. 
Then, if thy Lords their purpose urge, 

Take our defiance loud and high ; 
Our slogan is their lyke-wake dirge, 20 

Our moat, the grave where they shall lie." 



CANTO FOURTH 131 

XXVII 

Proud she look'd round, applause to claim — 
Then lighten' d Thirlestane 's eye of flame; 

His bugle Wat of Harden blew ; 
Pensils and pennons wide were flung, 
5 To heaven the Border -slogan rung, 
"St. Mary for the young Buccleuch!" 
The English war-cry answer 'd wide, 

And forward bent each southern spear; 
Each Kendal archer made a stride, 
10 And drew the bowstring to his ear ; 

Each minstrel's war-note loud was blown; — 
But, ere a grey-goose shaft had flown, 

A horseman gallop 'd from the rear. 

XXVIII 
"Ah! noble Lords!" he breathless said, 
"What treason has your march betray 'd? 
What make you here, from aid so far, 
Before you walls, around you war? 
V r our foemen triumph in the thought 
That in the toils the lion's caught. 
Already on dark Ruberslaw 
The Douglas holds his weapon-schaw ; 
The lances, waving in his train, 
10 Clothe the dun heath like autumn grain; 
And on the Liddel's northern strand, 
To bar retreat to Cumberland, 
Lord Maxwell ranks his merry men good, 
Beneath the eagle and the rood; 



132 THE LAY OF THE LAST MINSTREL 

And Jedwood, Eske. and Teviotdale. 

Have to proud Angus come ; 
And all the Merse and Lauderdale 

Have risen with haughty Home. 
An exile from Northumberland, 

In Liddesdale I've wander ? d loi a 

But still my heart was with merry England, 

And cannot brook my country's wrong; 
And hard I've spurr'd all night, to show 
The mustering of coming foe." 

XXIX 

"And let them come!" fierce Dacre cried, 

"For soon yon crest, my father's pride. 

That swept the shores of Judak's sea. 

And waved in gales of Galilee. 

From Branksome's highest towers display 'd, 5 

Shall mock the rescue's lingering aid! — 

Level each harquebuss on row ; 

Draw, merry archers, draw the bow; 

Up. bill-men, to the walls, and cry. 

Dacre for England, win or die!" — 10 

XXX 

"Yet hear." quoth Howard, "calmly hear, 

Xor deem my words the words of fear : 

For who. in field or foray slack. 

Saw the blanche lion e'er fall back? 

But thus to risk our Border flower 5 

In strife against a kingdom's power. 



CANTO FOURTH 133 

Ten thousand Scots 'gainst thousands three, 

Certes, were desperate policy. 

Nay, take the terms the Ladye made, 
10 Ere conscious of the advancing aid: 

Let Musgrave meet fierce Deloraine 

In single fight, and, if he gain, 

He gains for us; but if he's cross'd, 

'Tis but a single warrior lost : 
is The rest, retreating as they came, 

Avoid defeat, and death, and shame." 

XXXI 

111 could the haughty Dacre brook 
His brother Warden's sage rebuke; 
And yet his forward step he staid, 
And slow and sullenly obey'd. 
5 But ne'er again the Border side 

Did these two lords in friendship ride ; 
And this slight discontent, men say, 
Cost blood upon another day. 

XXXII 

The pursuivant-at-arms again 

Before the castle took his stand ; 
His trumpet call'd, with parleying strain, 

The leaders of the Scottish band ; 
5 And he defied, in Musgrave's right, 
Stout Deloraine to single fight ; 
A gauntlet at their feet he laid, 
And thus the terms of fight he said: — 



134 THE LAY OF THE LAST MINSTREL 

4 'If in the lists good Musgrave's sword 

Vanquish the Knight of Deloraine, 10 

Your youthful chieftain, Branksome's Lord, 

Shall hostage for his clan remain : 
If Deloraine foil good Musgrave, 
The boy his liberty shall have. 

Howe'er it falls, the English band, is 

Unharming Scots, by Scots unharm'd, 
In peaceful march, like men unarm 'd, 

Shall straight retreat to Cumberland." 

XXXIII 

Unconscious of the near relief, 

The proffer pleased each Scottish chief, 

Though much the Ladye sage gainsay'd; 
For though their hearts were brave and true, 
From Jedwood's recent sack they knew, 5 

How tardy was the Eegent 's aid : 
And you may guess the noble Dame 

Durst not the secret prescience own, 
Sprung from the art she might not name, 

By which the coming help was known. w 

Closed was the compact, and agreed 
That lists should be enclosed with speed, 

Beneath the castle, on a lawn : 
They fixed the morrow for the strife, 
On foot, with Scottish axe and knife, is 

At the fourth hour from peep of dawn ; 
When Deloraine, from sickness freed, 
Or else a champion in his stead, 



CANTO FOURTH 135 

Should for himself and chieftain stand, 
9P Against stout Musgrave, hand to hand. 

XXXIV 

I know right well, that, in their lay, 
Full many minstrels sing and say, 

Such combat should be made on horse, 
On foaming steed, in full career, 
5 With brand to aid, when as the spear 

Should shiver in the course : 
But he, the jovial Harper, taught 
Me, yet a youth, how it was fought, 

In guise which now I say ; 
10 He knew each ordinance and clause 
Of Black Lord Archibald's battle-laws, 

In the old Douglas' day. 
He brook'd not, he, that scoffing tongue 
Should tax his minstrelsy with wrong, 
is Or call his song untrue : 

For this, when they the goblet plied, 
And such rude taunt had chafed his pride, 

The Bard of Eeull he slew. 
On Teviot's side, in fight they stood, 
2<» And tuneful hands were stain'd with blood; 
Where still the thorn's white branches wave 
Memorial o'er his rival's grave. 

XXXV 

Why should I tell the rigid doom, 
That dragg'd my master to his tomb, 
How Ousenam's maidens tore their hair, 



136 THE LAY OF THE LAST MINSTREL 

Wept till their eyes were dead and dim, 

And wrung their hands for love of him, 5 

Who died at Jedwood Air? 
He died! — his scholars, one by one, 
To the cold, silent grave are gone ; 
And I, alas ! survive alone, 

To muse o'er rivalries of yore, 10 

And grieve that I shall hear no more 
The strains, with envy heard before; 
For, with my minstrel brethren fled, 
My jealousy of song is dead. 
(Interlude) 
He paused : the listening dames again 
Applaud the hoary Minstrel's strain. 
With many a word of kindly cheer, — 
In pity half, and half sincere, — 
Marvell'd the Duchess how so well 5 

His legendary song could tell — 
Of ancient deeds, so long forgot; 
Of feuds, whose memory was not ; 
Of forests, now laid waste and bare; 
Of towers, which harbour now the hare; 10 

Of manners, long since changed and gone; 
Of chiefs, who under their grey stone 
So long had slept, that fickle Fame 
Had blotted from her rolls their name, 
And twined round some new minion's head 15 

The fading wreath for which they bled ; 
In sooth, 'twas strange, this old man's verse 
Could call them from their marble hearse. 



CANTO FOURTH 13 1 ! 

The Harper smiled, well pleased; for ne'er 
m Was flattery lost on Poet's ear : 

A simple race ! they waste their toil 

For the vain tribute of a smile ; 

E'en when in age their flame expires, 

Her dulcet breath can fan its fires : 
as Their drooping fancy wakes at praise, 

And strives to trim the short-lived blaze. 
Smiled then, well pleased, the Aged Man, 

And thus his tale continued ran. 



CAXTO FIFTH 

I 
Call it not vain: — they do not err. 

TTho say. that when the Poet dies. 
Mute Nature mourns her worshipper, 

And celebrates his obsequies : 
Who say, tall cliff, and cavern lone, 5 

For the departed Bard make moan; 
That mountains weep in crystal rill; 
That flowers in tears of balm distil ; 
Through his loved groves that breezes s:_ 
And oaks, in deeper groan, reply; 
And rivers teach their rushing wave 
To murmur dirges round his grave. 

II 

Xot that, in sooth, o'er mortal urn 

Those things inanimate can mourn; 

But that the stream, the wood, the gale 

Is vocal with the plaintive wail 

Of those, who, else forgotten long, 5 

Lived in the poet's faithful song. 

And, with the poet's parting breath. 

Whose memory feels a second death. 

The Maid's pale shade, who wails her lot. 

138 



CANTO FIFTH 13 'J 

10 That love, true love, should be forgot, 
From rose and hawthorn shakes the tear 
Upon the gentle Minstrel's bier: 
The phantom Knight, his glory fled, 
Mourns o'er the field he heap'd with dead; 

is Mounts the wild blast that sweeps amain, 
And shrieks along the battle-plain. 
The Chief, whose antique crownlet long 
Still sparkled in the feudal song, 
Now, from the mountain's misty throne, 

20 Sees, in the thanedom once his own, 
His ashes undistinguish'd lie, 
His place, his power, his memory die: 
His groans the lonely caverns fill, 
His tears of rage impel the rill : 

•25 All mourn the Minstrel's harp unstrung, 
Their name unknown, their praise unsung. 

Ill 

Scarcely the hot assault was staid, 

The terms of truce were scarcely made, 

When they could spy, from Branksome's 
towers, 

The advancing march of martial powers, 
5 Thick clouds of dust afar appear 'd, 

And trampling steeds were faintly heard ; 

Bright spears, above the columns dun, 

(ilanced momentary to the sun; 

And feudal banners fair display'd 
io The bands that moved to Branksome's aid. 



140 THE LAY OF THE LAST MINSTREL 

IV 

Vails not to tell each hardy clan. 

From the fair Middle Marches came; 
The Bloody Heart blazed in the van, 

Announcing Douglas, dreaded name! 
Vails not to tell what steeds did spurn. 5 

Where the Seven Spears of Wedderburne 

Their men in battle-order set ; 
And Swinton laid the lance in rest, 
That tamed of yore the sparkling crest 

Of Clarence's Plantagenet. w 

Nor list I say what hundreds more, 
From the rich Merse and Lammermore, 
And Tweed's fair borders, to the war. 
Beneath the crest of Old Dunbar, 

And Hepburn's mingled banners come, is 

Down the steep mountain glittering far, 
And shouting still, "A Home! a Home!" 

V 

Xow squire and knight, from Branksome Bent,, 

On many a courteous message went ; 

To every chief and lord they paid 

Meet thanks for prompt and powerful aid ; 

And told them, — how a truce was made. 

And how a day of fight was ta'en 

? Twixt Musgrave and stout Deloraine; 
And how the Ladye pray'd them dear. 

That all would stay the fight to see, 

And deign, in love and courtesy. 



CANTO FIFTH 141 

To taste of Branksome cheer. 
Nor, while they bade to feast each Scot, 
Were England's noble Lords forgot. 
Himself, the hoary Seneschal 

15 Eode forth in seemly terms to call 
Those gallant foes to Branksome Hall. 
Accepted Howard, than whom knight 
Was never dubb'd, more bold in fight ; 
Nor, when from war and armour free, 

20 More famed for stately courtesy : 
But angry Dacre rather chose 
In his pavilion to repose. 

VI 
Now, noble Dame, perchance you ask, 

How these two hostile armies met? 
Deeming it were no easy task 

To keep the truce which here was set ; 
5 Where martial spirits, all on fire, 

Breathed only blood and mortal ire. — 
By mutual inroads, mutual blows, 
By habit, and by nation, foes, 

They met on Teviot's strand; 

10 They met and sate them mingled down, 

AVithout a threat, without a frown, 

As brothers meet in foreign land : 
The hands, the spear that lately grasp'd, 
Still in the mailed gauntlet clasp'd, 

16 Were interchanged in greeting dear; 
Visors were raised, and faces shown, 



148 THE LAY OF THE LAST MINSTREL 

And many a friend, to friend made known. 

Partook of social cheer. 
Some drove the jolly bowl about: 

With dice and draughts some chased the day; a 
And some, with many a merry shout, 
In riot, revelry, and rout. 

Pursued the foot -ball play. 

VII 

Yet, be it known, had bugles blown, 

Or sign of war been seen. 
Those bands so fair together ranged. 
Those hands, so frankly interchanged. 

Had dyed with gore the green : 
The merry shout by Teviot side 
Had sunk in war cries wild and wide, 

And in the groan of death ; 
And whingers, now in friendship bare. 
The social meal to part and share, : 

Had found a bloody sheath. 
Twixt truce and war. such sudden change 
Was not infrequent, nor held strar. ; 

In the old Border-day : 
But yet on Branksome's towers and town, 15 

In peaceful merriment, sunk down 

The sun's declining ray. 

VIII 

The blithesome signs of wassel gay, 
Decay'd not with the dying day: 
Soon through the latticed windows tall 



CANTO FIFTH 113 

Of lofty Branksome's lordly hall, 
5 Divided square by shafts of stone, 
Huge flakes of ruddy lustre shone ; 
Nor less the gilded rafters rang 
With merry harp and beakers' clang: 
And frequent, on the darkening plain, 
10 Loud hollo, whoop, or whistle ran, 

As bands, their stragglers to regain, 
Give the shrill watchword of their clan ; 
And revellers, o'er their bowls proclaim 
Douglas' or Dacre's conquering name. 

IX 

Less frequent heard, and fainter still, 

At length the various clamours died : 
And you might hear, from Branksome hill, 

No sound but Teviot's rushing tide; 
5 Save when the changing sentinel 

The challenge of his watch could tell ; 

And save, where, through the dark profound, 

The clanging axe and hammers sound 

Rung from the nether lawn ; 
For many a busy hand toil'd there, 
Strong pales to shape, and beams to square, 
The lists' dread barriers to prepare 

Against the morrow's dawn. 

X 

Margaret from hall did soon retreat, 

Despite the Dame's reproving eye; 

Nor tnark'd she. as Bhe left her Beat, 



10 



144 THE LAY OF THE LAST MINSTREL 

Full many a stifled sigh ; 
For many a noble warrior strove 5 

To win the flower of Teviot's love, 

And many a bold ally. — 
With throbbing head and anxious heart, 
All in her lonely bower apart, 

In broken sleep she lay : 10 

By times, from silken couch she rose; 
While yet the banner'd hosts repose, 

She view'd the dawning day: 
Of all the hundreds sunk to rest, 
First woke the loveliest and the best. 15 

XI 

She gazed upon the inner court, 

Which in the tower's tall shadow lay; 
Where coursers' clang, and stamp, and snort, 

Had rung the livelong yesterday ; 
Now still as death; till stalking slow, — 5 

The jingling spurs announced his tread, — 
A stately warrior pass'd below; 

But when he raised his plumed head — 
Blessed Mary ! can it be? — 
Secure, as if in Ousenam bowers, 10 

He walks through Branksome's hostile towers, 

With fearless step and free. 
She dared not sign, she dared not speak — 
Oh ! if one page's slumbers break, 

His blood the price must pay ! 15 

Not all the pearls Queen Mary wears, 



CANTO FIFTH 145 

Not Margaret's yet more precious tears. 
Shall buy his life a day. 

XII 

Yet was his hazard small ; for well 
You may bethink you of the spell 

Of that sly urchin page ; 
This to his lord he did impart, 
5 And made him seem, by glamour art, 

A knight from Hermitage. 
Unchallenged thus, the warder's post, 
The court, unchallenged, thus he cross 'd, 

For all the vassalage : 
10 But 0! what magic's quaint disguise 
Could blind fair Margaret's azure eyes! 

She started from her seat ; 
While with surprise and fear she strove, 
And both could scarcely master love — 
is Lord Henry's at her feet. 

XIII 

Oft have I mused, what purpose bad 
That foul malicious urchin had 

To bring this meeting round ; 
For happy love's a heavenly sight, 
5 And by a vile malignant sprite 

In such no joy is found; 
And oft I've deem'cl, perchance he thought 
Their erring passion might have wrought 

Sorrow, and sin, and shame; 



146 THE LAY OF THE LAST MINSTREL 

And death to Cranstoun's gallant Knight, 10 

And to the gentle ladye bright, 

Disgrace and loss of fame. 
But earthly spirit could not tell 
The heart of them that loved so well. 
True love's the gift that God has given is 

To man alone beneath the heaven : 

It is not fantasy's hot fire, 

Whose wishes, soon as granted, fly; 

It liveth not in fierce desire, 

With dead desire it doth not die ; 20 

It is the secret sympathy, 
The silver link, the silken tie, 
Which heart to heart, and mind to mind, 
In body and in soul can bind, — 
Now leave we Margaret and her Knight, 25 

To tell you of the approaching fight. 

XIV 

Their warning blasts the bugles blew, 
The pipe's shrill port aroused each clan; 

In haste, the deadly strife to view, 
The trooping warriors eager ran : 

Thick round the lists their lances stood, 5 

Like blasted pines in Ettrick wood ; 

To Branksome many a look they threw, 

The combatants' approach to view, 

And bandied many a word of boast, 

About the knight each favour 'd most. 10 



10 



CANTO FIFTH 147 

XV 

Meantime full anxious was the Dame ; 
For now arose disputed claim, 
Of who should fight for Deloraine, 
'Twixt Harden and 'twixt Thirlestane : 

They 'gan to reckon kin and rent, 
And frowning brow on brow was bent ; 

But yet not long the strife — for, lo ! 
Himself, the Knight of Deloraine, 
Strong as it seem'd, and free from pain, 

In armour sheathed from top to toe, 
Appear'd and craved the combat due. 
The Dame her charm successful knew, 
And the fierce chiefs their claims withdrew. 



XVI 

When for the lists they sought the plain, 
The stately Ladye's silken rein 

Did noble Howard hold ; 
Unarmed by her side he walk'd, 
5 And much, in courteous phrase, they talk'd 

Of feats of arms of old. 
Costly his garb — his Flemish ruff 
Fell o'er his doublet, shaped of buff, 

With satin slash'd and lined; 
io Tawny his boot, and gold his spur, 
His cloak was all of Poland fur, 

His hose with silver twined ; 
His Bilboa blade, by Marchmen felt, 
Hung in a broad and studded belt; 



148 THE LAY OF THE LAST MINSTREL 

Hence, in rude phrase, the Borderers still is 

CalPd noble Howard, Belted Will. 

XVII 
Behind Lord Howard and the Dame, 
Fair Margaret on her palfrey came, 

Whose foot-cloth swept the ground : 
White was her wimple, and her veil, 
And her loose locks a chaplet pale 5 

Of whitest roses bound ; 
The lordly Angus, by her side, 
In courtesy to cheer her tried ; 
Without his aid, her hand in vain 
Had strove to guide her broider'd rein. 10 

He deem'd, she shudder'd at the sight 
Of warriors met for mortal fight ; 
But cause of terror, all unguess'd, 
Was fluttering in her gentle breast 
When in their chairs of crimson placed, 15 

The Dame and she the barriers graced. 

XVIII 
Prize of the field, the young Buccleuch, 
An English knight led forth to view ; 
Scarce rued the boy his present plight, 
So much he long'd to see the fight. 
Within the lists, in knightly pride, 5 

High Home and haughty Dacre ride ; 
Their leading staffs of steel they wield, 
As marshals of the mortal field ; 



CANTO FIFTH 149 

While to each knight their care assigned 

10 Like vantage of the sun and wind. 

Then heralds hoarse did loud proclaim, 
In King and Queen, and Warden's name, 

That none, while lasts the strife, 
Should dare, by look, or sign, or word, 

15 Aid to a champion to afford, 
On peril of his life ; 
And not a breath the silence broke, 
Till thus the alternate Heralds spoke : — 

XIX 

ENGLISH HERALD 

"Here standeth Richard of Musgrave, 

Good knight and true, and freely born, 
Amends from Deloraine to crave, 

For foul despiteous scathe and scorn. 
5 He sayeth that William of Deloraine 

Is traitor false by Border laws ; 
This with his sword he will maintain, 

So help him God, and his good cause!" 

XX 

SCOTTISH HERALD 

"Here standeth William of Deloraine, 
Good knight and true, of noble strain, 
Who sayeth, that foul treason's stain, 
Since he bore arms, ne'er soil'd his coat; 
5 And that, so help him God above! 



150 THE LAY OF THE LAST MINSTREL 

He will on Musgrave's body prove, 
He lies most foully in his throat." 

LORD DACRE 

''Forward, brave champions, to the fight! 
Sound trumpets!" 

LORD HOME 

"God defend the right!"— 

Then, Teviot ! how thine echoes rang, id 

When bugle-sound and trumpet clang 

Let loose the martial foes, 
And in mid-list, with shield poised high, 
And measured step and wary eye, 

The combatants did close. 15 

XXI 

111 would it suit your gentle ear, 

Ye lovely listeners, to hear 

How to the axe the helms did sound, 

And blood pour'd down from many a wound; 

For desperate was the strife and long, s 

And either warrior fierce and strong. 

But were each dame a listening knight, 

I well could tell how warriors fight ! 

For I have seen war's lightning flashing, 

Seen the claymore with bayonet clashing, 10 

Seen through red blood the war-horse dashing, 

And scorn'd, amid the reeling strife, 

To yield a step for death or life. — 



CANTO FIFTH 1 5 1 

XXII 

'Tis done, 'tis done ! that fatal blow 

Has stretched him on the bloody plain ; 
He strives to rise — Brave Musgrave, no ! 
Thence never shalt thou rise again ! 
5 He chokes in blood — some friendly hand 
Undo the visor's barred band, 
Unfix the gorget's iron clasp, 
And give him room for life to gasp ! — 
0, bootless aid! — haste, holy Friar, 
io Haste, ere the sinner shall expire ! 
Of all his guilt let him be shriven, 
And smooth his path from earth to heaven! 

XXIII 

In haste the holy Friar sped ; — 
His naked foot was dyed with red, 

As through the lists he ran ; 
Unmindful of the shouts on high, 
B That hail'd the conqueror's victory, 

He raised the dying man ; 
Loose waved his silver beard and hair, 
As o'er him he kneel'd down in prayer; 
And still the crucifix on high 
10 He holds before his darkening eve; 
And still he bends an anxious ear, 
His faltering penitence to hear; 

Still props him from the bloody sod, 
Still, even when soul and body part, 
is Pours ghostly comfort on his heart, 



152 THE LAY OF THE LAST MINSTREL 

And bids him trust in God ! 
Unheard he prays; — the death-pang's o'er! 
Eichard of Musgrave breathes no more. 

XXIV 

As if exhausted in the fight, 

Or musing o'er the piteous sight, 

The silent victor stands ; 
His beaver did he not unclasp, 
Mark'd not the shouts, felt not the grasp 5 

Of gratulating hands. 
When lo ! strange cries of wild surprise, 
Mingled with seeming terror, rise 

Among the Scottish bands ; 
And all, amid the throng'd array, 10 

In panic haste gave open way 
To a half -naked ghastly man, 
Who downward from the castle ran : 
He cross'd the barriers at a bound, 
And wild and haggard look'd around, is 

As dizzy, and in pain ; 
And all, upon the armed ground, 

Knew William of Deloraine! 
Each ladye sprung from seat with speed ; 
Vaulted each marshal from his steed ; 20 

"And who art thou," they cried, 
u Who hast this battle fought and won?" — 
His plumed helm was soon undone — 

"Cranstoun of Teviot-side! 



CANTO FIFTH 153 

as For this fair prize I've fought and won," — 
And to the Ladye led her son. 

XXV 

Full oft the rescued boy she kiss'd, 
And often press'd him to her breast; 
For, under all her dauntless show, 
Her heart had throbbed at every blow ; 
5 Yet not Lord Cranstoun deign'd she greet, 
Though low he kneeled at her feet. 
Me lists not tell what words were made, 
What Douglas, Home, and Howard said — 

— For Howard was a generous foe — 
io And how the clan united pray'd 

The Ladye would the feud forgo, 
And deign to bless the nuptial hour 
Of Cranstoun's Lord and Teviot's Flower. 

XXVI 

She look'd to river, look'd to hill, 
Thought on the Spirit's prophecy, 

Then broke her silence stern and still, — 
"Not you, but Fate, has vanquish' d me. 
5 Their influence kindly stars may shower 

On Teviot's tide and Branksome's tower, 
For pride is quell'd, and love is free. 1 ' — 

She took fair Margaret by the hand, 

Who, breathless, trembling, scarce might stand; 
lu That hand to Cranstoun's lord gave she: — 



154 THE LAY OF THE LAST MINSTREL 

' ' As I am true to thee and thine, 
Do thou be true to me and mine ! 

This clasp of love our bond shall be ; 
For this is your betrothing day, 
And all these noble lords shall stay, 15 

To grace it with their company." — 

XXVII 

All as they left the listed plain, 

Much of the story she did gain ; 

How Cranstoun fought with Deloraine, 

And of his page, and of the Book 

Which from the wounded knight he took ; 5 

And how he sought her castle high, 

That morn, by help of gramarye ; 

How, in Sir William's armour dight, 

Stolen by the page, while slept the knight, 

He took on him the single fight. 10 

But half his tale he left unsaid, 

And linger'd till he join'd the maid. — 

Cared not the Ladye to betray 

Her mystic arts in view of day ; 

But well she thought, ere midnight came, is 

Of that strange page the pride to tame, 

From his foul hands the Book to save, 

And send it back to Michael's grave. — 

ISeeds not to tell each tender word 

'Twixt Margaret and 'twixt Cranstoun 's lord; 20 

iSTor how she told of former woes, 

And how her bosom fell and rose, 



CANTO FIFTH 155 

While he and Musgrave bandied blows. — 
Needs not these lover's joys to tell: 
25 One day, fair maids, you'll know them well. 

XXVIII 

William of Deloraine, some chance 
Had waken'd from his deathlike trance; 

And taught that, in the listed plain, 
Another, in his arms and shield, 
5 Against fierce Musgrave axe did wield, 
Under the name of Deloraine. 
Hence, to the field, unarm'd, he ran, 
And hence his presence scared the clan, 
Who held him for some fleeting wraith, 
io And not a man of blood and breath. 
Not much this new ally he loved, 
Yet, when he saw what hap had proved, 
He greeted him right heartilie : 
He would not waken old debate, 
15 For he was void of rancorous hate, 

Though rude, and scant of courtesy ; 
In raids he spilt but seldom blood, 
Unless when men-at-arms withstood, 
Or, as was meet, for deadly feud. 
20 He ne'er bore grudge for stalwart blow, 
Ta'en in fair fight from gallant foe: 
And so 't was seen of him, e'en now. 

When on dead Musgrave he look'd down; 
Grief darkened on his rugged brow, 
Though half disguised with a frown ; 



156 THE LAY OF THE LAST MINSTREL 

And thus, while sorrow bent his head, 
His foeman's epitaph he made. 

XXIX 

1 'Now, Eichard Musgrave, liest thou here! 

I ween, my deadly enemy; 
For, if I slew thy brother dear, 

Thou slew'st a sister's son to me; 
And when I lay in dungeon dark, 5 

Of Naworth Castle, long months three, 
Till ransom'd for a thousand mark, 

Dark Musgrave, it was long of thee. 
And, Musgrave, could our fight be tried, 

And thou wert now alive, as I, 10 

No mortal man should us divide, 

Till one, or both of us, did die; 
Yet rest thee God ! for well I know 
I ne'er shall find a nobler foe. 
In all the northern counties here, 15 

Whose word is Snaffle, spur, and spear, 
Thou wert the best to follow gear ! 
'T was pleasure, as we look'd behind, 
To see how thou the chase could 'st wind, 
Cheer the dark blood-hound on his way, 20 

And with the bugle rouse the fray ! 
I'd give the lands of Deloraine, 
Dark Musgrave were alive again." — 

XXX 

So mourn'd he, till Lord Dacre's band 
"Were bowning back to Cumberland. 



CANTO FIFTH L57 

They raised brave Musgrave from the field, 

And laid him on his bloody shield ; 
s On levell'd lances, four and four, 

By turns, the noble burden bore 

Before, at times, upon the gale, 

Was heard the Minstrel's plaintive wail 

Behind, four priests, in sable stole, 
10 Sung requiem for the warrior's soul: 

Around, the horsemen slowly rode ; 

With trailing pikes the spearmen trode ; 

And thus the gallant knight they bore, 

Through Liddesdale to Leven's shore; 
15 Thence to Holme Coltrame's lofty nave, 

And laid him in his father's grave. 

{Interlude) 

The harp's wild notes, though hush/d the song, 
The mimic march of death prolong ; 
Now seems it far, and now a-near, 
Now meets, and now eludes the ear; 

5 Now seems some mountain side to sweep, 
Now faintly dies in valley deep ; 
Seems now as if the Minstrel's wail, 
Now the sad requiem, loads the gale; 
Last o'er the warrior's closing grave, 

lo Rung the full choir in choral stave. 

After due pause, they bade him tell 
Why he, who touch 'd the harp so well, 
Should thus, with ill-rewarded toil, 



158 THE LAY OF THE LAST MINSTREL 

Wander a poor and thankless soil, 

When the more generous Southern Land ]5 

Would well requite his skilful hand. 

The Aged Harper, howsoe'er 
His only friend, his harp, was dear, 
Liked not to hear it rank'd so high 
Above his flowing poesy : 20 

Less liked he still, that scornful jeer 
Misprised the land he loved so dear ; 
High was the sound, as thus again 
The Bard resumed his minstrel strain. 



CANTO SIXTH 

I * 

Breathes there the man, with soul so dead, 
Who never to himself hath said, 

This is my own, my native land ! 
Whose heart hath ne'er within him burn'd, 

5 As home his footsteps he hath turn'd, 
From wandering on a foreign strand ! 
If such there breathe, go, mark him well ; 
For him no Minstrel raptures swell ; 
High though his titles, proud his name, 

10 Boundless his wealth as wish can claim ; 
Despite those titles, power, and pelf, 
The wretch, concentred all in self, 
Living, shall forfeit fair renown, 
And, doubly dying, shall go down 

15 To the vile dust, from whence he sprung, 
Unwept, unhonour'd, and unsung. 

II 

Caledonia! stern and wild, 
Meet nurse for a poetic child ! 
Land of brown heath and shaggy wood, 
Land of the mountain and the flood, 
Land of my sires! what mortal lniml 
159 



100 THE LAY OF THE LAST MINSTREL 

Can ere untie the filial band. 

That knits me to thy rugged strand! 

Still, as I view each well-known see 

Think what is now. and what hath been, 

Seems, as to me. of all bereft. 10 

Sole friends thy woods and streams were left ; 

And thus I love them better still. 

Even in extremity of ill. 

By Yarrow's streams still let me stray. 

Though none should guide my feeble w 15 

Still feel the breeze down Ettrick brea 

Although it chill my wither *d cheek : 

Still lay my head by Teviot Stone. 

Though there forgotten, and alone. 

The Bard may draw his parting groan. ^ 

III 
Xot scorn'd like me! to Branksome Hall 
The Minstrels came at festive call : 
Trooping they came, from near and far. 
The jovial priests of mirth and war; 
Alike for feast and fight prepared, s 

Battle and banquet both they shared. 
Of late, before each martial clan. 
They blew then- death-note in the van. 
But now. for every merry mate. 
Kose the portcullis' iron grate; 
They sound the pipe, they strike the string. 
They dance, they revel, and they sing. 
Till the rude turrets shake and ring. 



CANTO SIXTH 161 

IV 

Me lists not at this tide declare 
The splendour of the spousal rite, 

How muster 'd in the chapel fair 

Both maid and matron, squire and knight ; 
5 Me lists not tell of owches rare, 

Of mantles green, and braided hair, 

And kirtles furr'd with miniver; 

What plumage waved the altar round, 

How spurs and ringing chainlets sound ; 
10 And hard it were for bard to speak 

The changeful hue of Margaret's cheek; 

That lovely hue which comes and flies, 

As awe and shame alternate rise ! 

V 

Some bards have sung, the Ladye high 
Chapel or altar came not nigh ; 
Nor durst the rites of spousal grace, 
So much she fear'd each holy place. 
I False slanders these : — 1 trust right well 
She wrought not by forbidden spell ; 
For mighty words and signs have power 
O'er sprites in planetary hour: 
Yet scarce I praise their venturous part, 
io Who tamper with such dangerous art. 
But this for faithful truth I say, 
The Ladye by the altar stood, 
Of sable velvet her array, 

And on her bead a crimson hood, 



THE LAY OF THE LAST MINSTREL 

:h pearls eml J and entwined, is 

Guarded with gold, with ermine line 1 ; 
A merlin sat upon her wrist 
Held by a leash of silken twist. 

VI 

The spousal rites were ended soon: 

'Twas now the merry hour of noon, 

And in the lofty arched hall 

Was spread the gorgeous festival. 

Steward and squire, with heedful haste, 5 

Marshall'd the rank of every guest ; 

Pages, with ready blade, were there. 

The mighty meal to carve and share : 

O'er capon, heron-shew, and crane. 

And princely peacock's gilded train, 10 

And o'er the boar -head, garnished brave, 

And cygnet from St. Mary's wave; 

O'er ptarmigan and venison, 

The priest had spoke his benison. 

Then rose the riot and the din, is 

Above, beneath, without, within! 

For. from the lofty balcony. 

Pamg trumpet, shalm, and psaltery: 

Their clanging bowls old warriors quaff 'd. 

Loudly they spoke, and loudly laugh 'd; 

Whisper ! d young knights, in tone more mild, 

To ladies fair, and ladies smiled. 

The hooded hawks, high perch 'd on beam. 

The clamour join'd, with whistling scream. 



CANTO SIXTH 163 

2S And flapp'd their wings, and shook their bells, 
In concert with the stag-hounds' yells. 
Bound go the flasks of ruddy wine, 
From Bordeaux, Orleans, or the Rhine; 
Their tasks the busy sewers ply, 

30 And all is mirth and revelry. 

VII 

The Goblin Page, omitting still 

No opportunity of ill, 

Strove now while blood ran hot and high, 

To rouse debate and jealousy ; 

5 Till Conrad, Lord of Wolfenstein, 
By nature fierce, and warm with wine, 
And now in humour highly cross 'd, 
About some steeds his band had lost, 
High words to words succeeding still, 

10 Smote with his gauntlet, stout Hunthill ; 
A hot and hardy Rutherford, 
Whom men call Dickon Draw-the-sword. 
He took it on the page's saye, 
Hunthill had driven these steeds away. 

15 Then Howard, Home, and Douglas rose, 
The kindling discord to compose : 
Stern Rutherford right little said, 
But bit his glove, and shook his head. — 
A fortnight thence, in Inglewood, 

ao Stout Conrad, cold, and drench'd in blood. 
His bosom gored with many a wound. 
Was by a woodman's lyme-dog found; 



164 THE LAY OF THE LAST MINSTREL 

Unknown the manner of his death, 

Gone was his brand, both sword and sheath ; 

But ever from that time, 'twas said, 25 

That Dickon wore a Cologne blade. 

VIII 

The dwarf, who fear'd his master's eye 

Might his foul treachery espy, 

Now sought the castle buttery, 

Where many a yeoman, bold and free, 

Kevell'd as merrily and well 5 

As those that sat in lordly selle. 

Watt Tinlinn, there did frankly raise 

The pledge to Arthur Fire-the- Braes; 

And he, as by his breeding bound, 

To Howard's merry-men sent it round. 10 

To quit them, on the English side, 

Eed Eoland Forster loudly cried, 

"A deep carouse to yon fair bride!" — 

At every pledge, from vat and pail, 

Foam'd forth in floods the nut-brown ale; 15 

While shout the riders every one ; 

Such day of mirth ne'er cheer 'd their clan, 

Since old Buccleuch the name did gain, 

When in the cleuch the buck was ta'en. 

IX 

The wily page, with vengeful thought, 

Remember 'd him of Tinlinn's yew, 
And swore it should be dearly bought 



CANTO SIXTH 165 

That ever he the arrow drew. 
5 First, he the yeoman did molest, 

With bitter gibe and taunting jest; 

Told, how he fled at Solway strife, 

And how Hob Armstrong cheer 'd his wife; 

Then, shunning still, his powerful arm, 
10 At unawares he wrought him harm ; 

From trencher stole his choicest cheer, 

Dash'd from his lips his can of beer; 

Then, to his knee sly creeping on, 

With bodkin pierced him to the bone : 
is The venom'd wound, and festering joint, 

Long after rued that bodkin's point. 

The startled yeoman swore and spurn'd, 

And board and flagons overturn'd. 

Eiot and clamour wild began ; 
20 Back to the hall the Urchin ran ; 

Took in a darkling nook, his post, 

And grinn'd and mutter'd, "Lost! lost! lost!" 

X 

By this, the Dame, lest farther fray 
Should mar the concord of the day, 
Had bid the Minstrels tune their lay. 
And first stept forth old Albert Graeme, 
5 The Minstrel of that ancient name : 
Was none who struck the harp so well, 
Within the Land Debateable ; 
Well friended, too, his hardy kin, 
Whoever lost, were sure to win 5 



166 THE LAY OF THE LAST MINSTREL 

They sought the beeves that made their broth, 10 
In Scotland and in England both. 
In homely guise, as nature bade, 
His simple song the Borderer said. 

XI 

ALBEKT GRAEME 

It was an English ladye bright, 

(The sun shines fair on Carlisle wall,) 

And she would marry a Scottish knight, 
For Love will still be lord of all. 

Blithely they saw the rising sun, 5 

When he shone fair on Carlisle wall ; 

But they were sad ere day was done, 
Though Love was still the lord of all. 

Her sire gave brooch and jewel fine, 

Where the sun shines fair on Carlisle wall ; 10 
Her brother gave but a flask of wine, 

For ire that Love was lord of all. 

For she had lands, both meadow and lea, 
Where the sun shines fair on Carlisle wall ; 

And he swore her death, ere he would see 15 

A Scottish knight the lord of all ! 

XII 

That wine she had not tasted well, 
(The sun shines fair on Carlisle wall,) 

When dead, in her true love's arms, she fell, 
For Love was still the lord of all ! 



CANTO SIXTH 167 

5 He pierced her brother to the heart, 

Where the sun shines fair on Carlisle wall : — 
So perish all would true love part, 
That Love may still be lord of all ! 

And then he took the cross divine, 
10 (Where the sun shines fair on Carlisle wall,) 

And died for her sake in Palestine, 
So Love was still the lord of all. 

Now, all ye lovers, that faithful prove, 
(The sun shines fair on Carlisle wall,) 
15 Pray for their souls who died for love, 
For Love shall still be lord of all ! 

XIII 

As ended Albert's simple lay, 
Arose a bard of loftier port ; 
For sonnet, rhyme, and roundelay, 
Kenown'd in haughty Henry's court; 
s There rung thy harp, unrivall'd long, 
Fitztraver of the silver song ! 

The gentle Surrey loved his lyre — 

Who has not heard of Surrey's fame? 
His was the hero's soul of fire, 
10 And his the bard's immortal name, 

And his was love exalted high 
By all the glow of chivalry. 

XIV 

They sought, together, climes afar, 
And oft, within some olive grove, 



168 THE LAY OF THE LAST MINSTREL 

When even came with twinkling star, 

They sung of Surrey's absent love. 
His step the Italian peasant stay'd, 5 

And deem'd that spirits from on high, 
Eound where some hermit saint was laid, 

Were breathing heavenly melody ; 
So sweet did harp and voice combine, 
To praise the name of Geraldine. 10 

XV 

Fitztraver ! what tongue may say 
The pangs thy faithful bosom knew, 

When Surrey, of the deathless lay, 
Ungrateful Tudor's sentence slew? 

Regardless of the tyrant's frown, b 

His harp call'd wrath and vengeance down. 

He left, for Naworth's iron towers, 

Windsor's green glades, and courtly bowers, 

And faithful to his patron's name, 

With Howard still Fitztraver came ; 10 

Lord William's foremost favourite he, 

And chief of all his minstrelsy. 

XVI 

FITZTRAVER 

'Twas All-soul's eve, and Surrey's heart beat 
high; 

He heard the midnight bell with anxious start, 
Which told the mystic hour, approaching nigh, 

When wise Cornelius promised, by his art, 



CANTO SIXTH 169 

To show to him the ladye of his heart, 
Albeit betwixt them roar'd the ocean grim ; 

Yet so the sage had hight to play his part, 
That he should see her form in life and limb, 
And mark, if still she loved, and still she 
thought of him. 

XVII 
Dark was the vaulted room of gramarye, 

To which the wizard led the gallant Knight, 
Save that before a mirror, huge and high, 

A hallow'd taper shed a glimmering light 

On mystic implements of magic might ; 
On cross, and character, and talisman, 

And almagest, and altar, nothing bright : 
For fitful was the lustre, pale and wan, 
As watchlight by the bed of some departing man. 

XVIII 

But soon, within that mirror huge and high, 

Was seen a self -emitted light to gleam ; 
And forms upon its breast the Earl 'gan spy. 

Cloudy and indistinct, as feverish dream ; 

Till, slow arranging, and defined, they Beem 
To form a lordly and a lofty room. 

Part lighted by a lamp with silver beam, 
Placed by a couch of Agra's silken loom, 
And part by moonshine pale, and part was hid 
in gloom. 



170 THE LAY OF THE LAST MINSTREL 

XIX 

Fair all the pageant — but how passing fair 

The slender form, which lay on couch of Ind! 
O'er her white bosom stray 'd her hazel hair, 

Pale her dear cheek, as if her love she pined; 

All in her night robe loose she lay reclined, 
And, pensive, read from tablet eburnine, 

Some strain that seenvd her inmost soul to 
find:— 
That favour'd strain was Surrey's raptured line, 
That fair and lovely form, the Lady Geraldine. 

XX 

Slow roll'd the clouds upon the lovely form, 

And swept the goodly vision all away- 
So royal envy roll'd the murky storm 

O'er my beloved Master's glorious day. 

Thou jealous, ruthless tyrant! Heaven repay 
On thee, and on thy children's latest line, 

The wild caprice of thy despotic sway, 
The gory bridal bed, the plunder 'd shrine, 
The murder 'd Surrey's blood, the tears of 
Geraldine ! 

XXI 

Both Scots, and Southern chiefs, prolong 
Applauses of Fitztraver's song; 
These hated Henry's name as death, 
And those still held the ancient faith. — 
Then from his seat, with lofty air, 



CANTO SIXTH 171 

Rose Harold, bard of brave St. Clair ; 

St. Clair, who, feasting high at home, 

Had with that lord to battle come. 

Harold was born where restless seas 
10 Howl round the storm-swept Orcades ; 

Where erst St. Clairs held princely sway 

O'er isle and islet, strait and bay; — 

Still nods their palace to its fall, 

Thy pride and sorrow, fair Kirkwall ! — 
is Thence oft he mark'd fierce Pentland rave, 

As if grim Odin rode her wave ; 

And watch 'd, the whilst, with visage pale, 

And throbbing heart, the struggling sail; 

For all of wonderful and wild 
20 Had rapture for the lonely child. 

XXII 

And much of wild and wonderful 

In these rude isles might fancy cull ; 

For thither came, in times afar, 

Stern Lochlin's sons of roving war, 
5 The Norsemen, train 'd to spoil and blood, 

Skill ' d to prepare the raven's food; 

Kings of the main their leaders brave, 

Their barks the dragons of the wave. 

And there, in many a stormy vale, 
io The Scald had told his wondrous tale; 

And many a Runic column high 

Had witness'd grim idolatry. 

And thus had Harold, in his youth, 



V '2 THE LAY OF THE LAST MINSTREL 

Learn 'd many a Saga's rhyme uncouth, — 

Of that Sea-Snake, tremendous curl'd, is 

Whose monstrous circle girds the world; 

Of those dread Maids, whose hideous yell 

Maddens the battles bloody swell ; 

Of Chiefs, who, guided through the gloom 

By the pale death-lights of the tomb, 20 

Eansack'd the graves of warriors old, 

Their falchions wrench' d from corpses' hold, 

Waked the deaf tomb with war's alarms, 

And bade the dead arise to arms ! 

With war and wonder all on flame, 25 

To Roslin's bowers young Harold came. 

Where, by sweet glen and greenwood tree, 

He learn 'd a milder minstrelsy ; 

Yet something of the Northern spell 

Mix'd with the softer numbers well. 30 



XXIII 

HAROLD 

listen, listen, ladies gay! 

No haughty feat of arms I tell ; 
Soft is the note, and sad the lay, 

That mourns the lovely Eosabelle. 

— "Moor, moor the barge, ye gallant crew! 

And, gentle ladye, deign to stay! 
Rest thee in castle Eavensheuch, 

Nor tempt the stormy firth to-day. 



CANTO SIXTH 173 

"The blackening wave is edged with white: 
10 To inch and rock the sea-mews fly ; 

The fishers have heard the Water-Sprite, 
Whose screams forebode that wreck is nigh. 

"Last night the gifted Seer did view 
A wet shroud swathed round ladye gay ; 
15 Then stay thee, Fair, in Ravensheuch : 

Why cross the gloomy firth to-day?" — 

" 'Tis not because Lord Lindesay's heir 

To-night at Roslin leads the ball, 
But that my ladye -mother there 
20 Sits lonely in her castle hall. 

" 'Tis not because the ring they ride, 
And Lindesay at the ring rides well, 

But that my sire the wine will chide, 
If 'tis not filled by Rosabelle. "— 

85 O'er Roslin all that dreary night, 

A wondrous blaze was seen to gleam ; 
'Twas broader than the watch-fire's light, 
And redder than the bright moon-beam. 

It glared on Roslin 's castled rock, 
so It ruddied all the copse-wood glen; 

'Twas seen from Dryden's groves of oak, 
And seen from cavern'd Hawthornden. 

Seem'd all on fire that chapel proud, 
Where Roslin's chiefs uncoffin'd lie; 
is Each Baron, for a sable shroud. 
Sheathed in his iron panoply. 



174 THE LAY OF THE LAST MINSTREL 

Seem'd all on fire within, around, 

Deep sacristy and altar's pale; 
Shone every pillar foliage-bound, 

And glimmer 'd all the dead men's mail. 40 

Blazed battlement and pinnet high, 

Blazed every rose-carved buttress fair — 

So still they blaze, when fate is nigh 
The lordly line of high St. Clair. 

There are twenty of Eoslin's barons bold 45 

Lie buried within that proud chapelle ; 

Each one the holy vault doth hold — 
But the sea holds lovely Rosabelle ! 

And each St. Clair was buried there, 

With candle, with book, and with knell; 50 

But the sea-caves rung, and the wild winds sung, 

The dirge of lovely Rosabelle. 

XXIV 

So sweet was Harold's piteous lay, 

Scarce mark'd the guests the darkened hall, 
Though, long before the sinking day, 

A wondrous shade involved them all : 
It was not eddying mist or fog, 5 

Drain'd by the sun from fen or bog; 

Of no eclipse had sages told ; 
And yet, as it came on apace, 
Each one could scarce his neighbour's face, 

Could scarce his own stretch 'd hand behold. 10 
A secret horror check 'd the feast, 



CANTO SIXTH 175 

And chill 'd the soul of every guest ; 
E'en the high Dame stood half aghast, 
She knew some evil on the blast ; 
15 The elvish page fell to the ground, 

And, shuddering, mutter'd, "Found! found! 
found!" 

XXV 
Then sudden, through the darken'd air, 

A flash of lightning came ; 
So broad, so bright, so red the glare, 
The castle seem'd on flame. 
5 Glanced every rafter of the hall, 
Glanced every shield upon the wall ; 
Each trophied beam, each sculptured stone, 
Were instant seen, and instant gone ; 
Full through the guests' bedazzled band 
10 Resistless flashed the levin-brand, 

And fill'd the hall with smouldering smoke, 
As on the elvish page it broke. 

It broke with thunder long and loud, 
Dismay'd the brave, appall'd the proud, — 
is From sea to sea the larum rung; 

On Berwick wall, and at Carlisle withal 
To arms the startled warders sprung. 
When ended was the dreadful roar, 
The elvish dwarf was seen no more! 

XXVI 
Some heard a voice in Branksome Hall, 
Some saw a sight, not seen by all; 



176 THE LAY OF THE LAST MINSTREL 

That dreadful voice was heard by some, 
Cry, with loud summons, "Gylbix, come!" 

And on the spot where burst the brand, 5 

Just where the page had flung him down, 

Some saw an arm, and some a hand, 
And some the waving of a gown. 
The guests in silence pray'd and shook, 
And terror dimm'd each lofty look. 10 

But none of all the astonish 'd train 
Was so dismay 'd as Deloraine; 
His blood did freeze, his brain did burn, 
'Twas fear'd his mind would ne'er return; 

For he was speechless, ghastly, wan, is 

Like him of whom the story ran, 

Who spoke the spectre-hound in Man. 
At length, by fits, he darkly told, 
With broken hint, and shuddering cold — 

That he had seen, right certainly, 20 

A shape with amice wrapped around, 
With a tor ought Spanish baldric bound, 

Like pilgrim from beyond the sea; 
And knew — but how it matter'd not — 
It was the wizard, Michael Scott. 25 

XXVII 

The anxious crowd, with horror pale, 
All trembling heard the wondrous tale ; 

No sound was made, no word was spoke, 

Till noble Angus silence broke ; 
And he a solemn, sacred plight 5 



CANTO SIXTH 177 

Did to St. Bride of Douglas make, 
That he a pilgrimage would take, 
To Melrose Abbey, for the sake 
Of Michael's restless sprite. 
10 Then each, to ease his troubled breast, 

To some bless'd saint his prayers address'd: 
Some to St. Modan made their vows, 
Some to St. Mary of the Lowes, 
Some to the Holy Rood of Lisle, 
15 Some to our Ladye of the Isle ; 
Each did his patron witness make, 
That he such pilgrimage would take, 
And monks should sing, and bells should toll, 
All for the weal of Michael's soul. 
20 While vows were ta'en, and prayers were pray'd, 
'Tis said the noble dame, dismay 'd, 
Renounced, for aye, dark magic's aid. 



XXVIII 

Nought of the bridal will I tell, 
Which after in short space befell ; 
Nor how brave sons and daughters fair 
Bless'd Teviot's Flower, and Cranstoun's heir: 
5 After such dreadful scene, 'twere vain 
To wake the note of mirth again. 
More meet it were to mark the day 

Of penitence and prayer divine, 
When pilgrim-chiefs, in sad array, 
10 Sought Melrose' holy shrine. 



178 THE LAY OF THE LAST MINSTREL 

XXIX 
With naked foot, and sackcloth vest, 
And arms enfolded on his breast, 

Lid every pilgrim go; 
The standers-by might hear uneath, 
Footstep, or voice, or high-drawn breath, 5 

Through all the lea ^ tfa an 1 1 - w: 
Xo lordly look, nor martial stride, 

ne was their glory, sunk their pride, 

Forgorten their renown; 

, like ghosts they glide 10 

To the high altar's ide, 

And there they knelt them down: 
Al >ve the suppliant chieftains wave 
The ave; 

Beneath the letter "d stones were laid 15 

The ashes of their fathers dead; 
From rrmiy a garnish'd niche arou: 
Stem si rortnred martyrs frown'd. 

XXX 
And slow up the din far, 

TTr; I and scapular. 

An o mow-white stoles, in order due, 

Tie holy Fathers, two ind two. 

In long procession came ; 5 

:, and book they bare, 
And holy bannei sh'd fair 

TTith the Redeemer's name. 
Above the - a pilgrim band 



CANTO SIXTH 179 

10 The mitred Abbot stretch'd his hand, 
And bless 'd them as they kneel' d; 
With holy cross he sign'd them all, 
And pray'd they might be sage in hall, 
And fortunate in field. 
15 Then mass was sung, and prayers were said, 
And solemn requiem for the dead ; 
And bells toll'd out their mighty peal, 
For the departed spirit 's weal ; 
And ever in the office close 
20 The hymn of intercession rose ; 
And far the echoing aisles prolong 
The awful burthen of the song — 
Dies iile, dies illa, 
solvet s^clum in favilla ; 
25 While the pealing organ rung ; 

Were it meet with sacred strain 
To close my lay so light and vain, 
Thus the holy Fathers sung. 

XXXI 

HYMN FOR THE DEAD 

That day of wrath, that dreadful day, 
When heaven and earth shall pass away, 
What power shall be the sinner's stay? 
How shall he meet that dreadful day? 

5 When, shriveling like a parched scroll, 
The flaming heavens together roll; 
When louder yet, and yet more dread, 
Swells the high trump that wakes the dead ! 



180 THE LAY OF THE LAST MINSTREL 

Oh! on that day, that wrathful day, 

When man to judgment wakes from clay, 10 

Be Thou the trembling sinner's stay, 

Though heaven and earth shall pass away ! 

{Epilogue) 

Hush'd is the harp — the Minstrel gone. 
And did he wander forth alone? 
Alone, in indigence and age, 
To linger out his pilgrimage? 
No; close beneath proud Newark's tower, 5 

Arose the Minstrel's lowly bower; 
A simple hut ; but there was seen 
The little garden hedged with green, 
The cheerful hearth, and lattice clean. 
There shelter' d wanderers, by the blaze, 10 

Oft heard the tale of other days ; 
For much he loved to ope his door 
And give the aid he begg'd before. 
So pass'd the winter's day; but still, 
When summer smiled on sweet Bowhill, is 

And July's eve, with balmy breath, 
Waved the blue-bells on Newark heath ; 
When throstles sung in Harehead-shaw, 
And corn was green on Carterhaugh, 
And flourish 'd, broad, Blackandro's oak, 20 

The aged Harper's soul awoke! 
Then he would sing achievements high 
And circumstance of chivalry, 
Till the rapt traveler would stay, 



CANTO SIXTH 181 

25 Forgetful of the closing day ; 

And noble youths, the strain to hear, 
Forsook the hunting of the deer ; 
And Yarrow as he roll'd along, 
Bore burden to the Minstrel 's song. 




182 



NOTES 



INTRODUCTION 

20. A stranger filVd the Stuarts' throne. In 1689 Wil- 
liam of Orange ascended the throne of England as 
William III. 

21-22. The bigots of the iron time, etc. The reference 
is to the denunciation of all amusements by the 
Puritans during Cromwell's protectorate. 

26. A king had loved to hear. Charles I. See 1. 80. 

37. The Duchess. Anne, Duchess of Buccleuch and 
Monmouth, representative of the ancient family of 
Buccleuch, was the owner of Newark Castle. She 
was the widow of James, Duke of Monmouth, who 
was beheaded on charge of treason by order of 
James II. in 1685. 

49. Earl Francis. Francis Scott, Earl of Buccleuch, 
father of the Duchess. 

50. Earl Walter. Walter Scott, Earl of Buccleuch, 
grandfather of the Duchess. 

80-81. He had play'd it, etc. When Charles I. visited 
Scotland in 1633, he resided at the royal palace of 
Holyrood in Edinburgh. About what age may we 
judge the Minstrel to be if he had played for King 
Charles nearly sixty years before the probable date 
(1689) of his present performance? 

CANTO FIRST 

I, 2. The Ladye. The owner of the castle, designated 
as "the Ladye" throughout the poem, is the 
widow of Sir Walter Scott of Buccleuch, War- 
den of the West Marches. See note on VII, 7. 
Why is the form "Ladye" used? 
3-4. By word and by spell, etc. Lady Buooleuoh 
was highly intellectual and was believed to 
have inherited supernatural knowledge and 

183 



184 THE LAY OF THE LAST MINSTREL 

magical powers. See Canto I, Stanza XI ; also 
Editor's Introduction, p. 49. 

VI, 9. "Branksome Castle," says Sir Walter Scott, 

"was continually exposed to the attacks of the 
English, both from its situation, and the rest- 
less military disposition of its inhabitants, who 
were seldom on good terms with their neigh- 
bors." 
10. See map, p. 182. 

VII, 7. Lord Walter. Sir Walter Scott of Buccleuch, 

slain in the streets of Edinburgh, 1552, while 
leading his clan in a feudal struggle with the 
Kerrs (Kers or Carrs) of Cessford. The main 
action of the story is based on this feud. 
VIII, 6. Mutual pilgrimage. It was not unusual in 
feudal times for the heads of clans to bind 
themselves by solemn vows, to perform recip- 
rocal pilgrimages to holy shrines for the benefit 
of the souls of those of the opposing clan whom 
they had slain in battle. Such intercession 
had been made by the chiefs of the Scotts and 
of the Carrs, evidently without quieting the 
feud. 

X, 11-12. Her lover, etc. The Cranstouns were an an- 

cient Border family. Henry of Cranstoun had 
once taken part with the Carrs of Cessford 
in a feudal fight against the Scotts. This ac- 
counts for the determined purpose of the Ladye 
emphasized in the closing verses of this stanza. 
See Editor's Introduction, p. 49. 

XI, 10-11. His form no darkening shadow traced, etc. 

The shadow of a magician was said to be inde- 
pendent of the sun. It was a popular belief 
"that when a class of students have made a 
certain progress in their mystic studies, they 
are obliged to run through a subterraneous 
hall, when the devil literally catches the hind- 
most in the race, unless he crosses the hall so 
speedily that the arch-enemy can only appre- 
hend his shadow. In the latter case the per- 
son of the sage never after throws any shade." 
—Sir Walter Scott. 
XII, 4. Vietcless forms of air. Spirits of the air 
whose services the necromancer was able to 
command. 



NOTES 185 

XIV, 7-8. The Spirit of the Flood, etc. Scottish super- 

stition ascribed floods, storms, and other natural 
phenomena to the influence of a class of spirits 
who dwelt in the air, in mountains, and in 
streams. 

XV, 7. Emerald rings, etc. 

"And I serve the fairy queen 
To dew her orbs upon the green. ' ' 
— Midsummer- NighV s Dr-eam, II. i. 

"These orbs were the verdant circles which the 
old sweet superstition here so sweetly delineated 
called fairy-rings, supposing them to be made 
by the night-tripping fairies dancing their 
merry roundels. As the ground became parched 
under the feet of the moonlight dancers, Puck's 
office was to refresh it with sprinklings of dew, 
thus making it greener than ever. Science has 
of course brushed away the charm that once 
hung about these circles ; but we are not aware 
that it has given any better explanation of them 
than that of the old superstition. — Hudson. 

XVI, 1. Imprisoned. Thwarted; opposed; not literally 

' 'shut up. ' ' 
XVI, XVII. Popular superstition has in all ages 
attributed good or evil fortune in earthly affairs 
to the influence of the stars. The mountain 
spirit replies to the questionings of the river 
spirit that the stars are too dim to be easily 
read, but that their influence upon Branksome 
will not be kindly 

"Till pride be quell'd, and love be free." 

XVIII, 5. Lord David's tower. Sir David Scott, the 
builder of the tower referred to, was grandson 
to Sir William, who was the first owner of 
Branksome Castle. 

XIX, 15. Should tame the Unicorn's pride. Can you 
account for the apparently defective meter of 
this verse? 

XX, 6. William of Deloraine. In this knight we have 
a picture of the typical Borderer. He was a 
trusted retainer of the Buccleuch family ami 
held adjoining lands in feudal tenure. 



186 THE LAY OF THE LAST MINSTREL 

XXI, 6. Blood-hounds. Not an unusual method of 
tracking the enemy in Border warfare. See 
Stanza VI. 

14. As ever drove prey from Cumberland. This 
daring marauder, driving prey from Cumber- 
land, England, would he obliged to cross both 
the Eske and the Liddel river. That there 
were no convenient fords by which to cross 
mattered little to him. See map. 

16. England's King. Edward VI. Scotland's 
Queen. The queen-mother, Mary of Guise. 

XXV, 11-12. In Hawick twinkled many a light, etc. 

Cf. XXXI, 7. 

XXVI, 10. The Roman way. An ancient Roman road 

in Roxburghshire. 

XXVII, 13-16. Cliffs, which, for many a later year, 
etc. A reference to the beautiful pastoral song 
of Sir Gilbert Elliot, who was an ancestor of 
the lords of Minto. Its plaintive refrain echoes 
the name of the romantic cliffs : 

''Ah! what had my youth with ambition to do! 
Why left I Amynta! Why broke I my vow!" 

XXIX, 11. Our Ladye's grace. Protection of the 

blessed Virgin Mary. 

XXX, 6-10. When first the Scott and Carr were foes, etc. 

The feud began in 1526, in the attempt of the 
Scotts of Buccleuch to rescue King James V. 
from the hands of the Earl of Douglas. The 
Carrs sided with Douglas, as did Home, the 
head of another powerful family. 
11-12. Till gallant Cessford's heart-blood, etc. In 
the struggle, Carr of Cessford was slain by 
Elliot, a follower of Sir Walter Scott, husband 
of "the Ladye" and head of the clan of Buc- 
cleuch. 

XXXI, 4. Old Melros' rose. What device does the 
poet employ in this verse to avoid a disagree- 
able repetition of sound? 

11-12. Like that wild harp, etc. The JEolian harp, 
whose delicate strings are vibrated by the wind, 

INTERLUDE 

See comment in the Editor's Introduction, p. 48. 



NOTES 187 

CANTO SECOND 

I, 12. And the scrolls, etc. The carved niches con- 
taining statues of saints are labeled with 
scrolls which bear appropriate Scriptural texts. 
16. St. David's ruin' d pile. King David I. of Scot- 
land founded and endowed the monastery of 
Melrose, 1136. 

II, 7-12. From Branksome I, etc. The family of 
Buccleuch were liberal benefactors of Melrose 
Abbey. 

V, 10. What should ne'er be knoivn. See XIV, 7-8. 

VIII, 3-4. Nor herb, nor floweret, etc. Flowers and 

other forms of vegetation are reproduced in the 
intricate carvings of Melrose Abbey, wrought 
with marvelous beauty and accuracy. 
7-8. And red and bright, etc. The aurora borealis. 
11-12. Sudden the flying jennet wheel, etc. Froissart 
makes mention of the skill of ' 'the Castellyans" 
in the management of their horses, and of their 
marvelous dexterity in the use of the dart. 
14. But one of the numerous instances of the 
association of spiritual agencies with natural 
phenomena. 

IX, 3-10. The darkened roof rose high aloof, etc. 

Lightness and boldness were the distinguishing 
characteristics of Gothic architecture 

XI, 1-8. The eastern window of Melrose Abbey pre- 

sents a most exquisite specimen of pure Gothic 
architecture. Its tracery is displayed in an 
intricate interlacing of slender willow wands, 
probably in architectural imitation of the iirsr 
English churches, which were built of wicker 
work. 

XII, 1-2. A large marble stone in the chancel of Mel 

rose was said to mark the tomb of Alexander 
II., one of the greatest of Scotland's early kings, 
4. Man of ivoe. One devoted to an austere life of 
penance. 

XIII, 6. The bells would ring in Noire Dame. Tradition 

relates that this mighty wizard once rode over 
seas to the court of the French king to compel 
him to redress certain wrongs done to Scottish 
subjeets. His steed was the Devil in guise of a 
black horse. The reluctant monarch was 



188 THE LAY OF THE LAST MINSTREL 



brought to terms upon Michael's commanding 
his horse to stamp three times. The first stamp 
shook every steeple in Paris, and caused all the 
bells to ring; the second threw down three of 
the towers of the palace. For obvious reasons 
the king dismissed Michael with ample con- 
cessions before the diabolical steed could give 
the third stamp. 
9-10. Legend gives to Michael Scot* the credit of 
dividing Eildon hill, formerly one uniform 
peak, into three as now -eon ; also, of building 
the dam-head across the Tweed at Kelso by 
invoking the services of his attendant spirits. 

XV. 10-12. When the floor of the chancel, etc. The un- 
certain moonlight shining through the red cross 
of St. Michael in the stained window, threw a 
wavering cross of red upon the sepulchre. See 
XL 12-16. 

XVII, 5-6. That lamp shall burn. etc. Treatises on 
necromancy make frequent mention of eternal 
lamps exhumed from ancient sepulchres. 

XIX, 8. Bool: of Might. Book of magic lore. 

XX. 1-4. Scott's not infrequent violation of gram- 

matical rules is here plainly exemplified. 
XXL 5-6. For those, etc. "Who are meant in these lines? 

XXIII. 6. Sped. Hastened to perform. 

This stanza gives an excellent illustration of 
the close structure and swift movement of old 
ballad verse. 

9. Laid. Arranged for burial. 

XXIV. 7. (Though) with nerves of iron twined 

{— bound ). 
B. Shook, like\the aspen leaves, etc. The leaves of 
the aspen tremble at the slightest breath of wind. 

10. Begem to brighten Cheviot grey. In what direc- 
tion is Deloraine now riding? 

12. He said Ave Mary. "The Borderers, as may be 
supposed, were very ignorant about religious 
matters. . . . But however deficient in real 
religion, they regularly told their beads." — S: . 
"Walter Scott. Deloraine admits this muc- 
in Stanza VI. 

XXV. 4. Smiled Branksome towers, etc. Deloraine 

has proceeded upon his homeward journey 
until he is within sight of the familiar towers 



NOTES 189 

of Branksome. The poet here makes a digres- 
sion the reason for which is soon obvious. 
Stanzas XXV, XXVI, XXVII introduce a 
counter movement in the plot of the tale. 

XXVI, 2. Hastilie. This form is appropriate not only 

because it is in keeping with the ballad style, 
but because it gives energy to the rhyme. Cf. 
furiouslie, Canto III, XV, 7, etc. 

XXVII. Observe the correspondence of question and 
answer in this stanza and the preceding one. 

8. Baron Henry. Lord Cranstoun. 
XXIX, XXX. It is characteristic of Sir Walter Scott 
rarely to describe a love scene. Admirers of 
his romances will remember his habit of bring- 
ing his lovers into a favorable situation at the 
close of a chapter. When the new chapter opens 
the love-making is imagined to have transpired. 

XXXI, 2. The Baron's Dwarf. The idea of the Goblin 

Page is taken from his prototype the mys- 
terious Gilpin Horner of Border Legend. This 
strange being was popularly believed to be a 
lost imp of Satan. He dwelt for some time 
with the family of a border farmer. [See 
Editor's Introduction, p. 20.] 
17. Him. Himself. Cf. Canto IV, XI, 16. 

XXXII, 1. Use lessens marvel. Familiarity destroys 
wonder or surprise. 

2. This elvish Dwarf with the Baron stay'd. "The 
idea of the imp domesticating himself with 
the first person he met and subjecting himself 
to that one's authority, is perfectly consonant 
to old opinions." 
9-11. And he of his service, etc. Scott's disregard 
of the relation of pronoun to antecedent is 
frequently evident. 

XXXIII, The story runs that Lady Buccleuch in her 
pride and hatred gathered her followers in 
pursuit of Lord Cranstoun and would have 
attacked him even in the sacred chapel of St. 
Mary, whither he had gone on devout pilgrim- 
age. Finding him gone, and foiled of their 
purpose, the Scotts cursed the Goblin Page as 
the evil cause of their failure and disappoint- 
ment. In their rage they burned the chapel. 
This is said to have occurred in 1557. 



190 THE LAY OF THE LAST MINSTREL 

XXXIV, 1-4, Observe the confusion of tenses. Xote 
other cases as they occur. 

INTERLUDE 

1. Pourd. Sang without pause. 
5. Mighty wine. Rich, strong. 

CANTO THIRD 

II, 1. Tunes the shepherd's reed. Inspires the rustic 
lover. 

2. Mounts the warrior's steed. Is a source of 
courage and strength to the warrior. 

3. In hcdls. In lordly dwellings. 

4. In hamlets, etc. Is a source of rural gaiety. 

III, 2. Pondering deep. Note how the poet in resum- 

ing the story uses a ''catchword" from the 
previous Canto < XXXIV, 12). 

IV. 3. He mark'd the crane, etc. The crest of the 

Cranstouns (Crane-stone) was a crane dormant 
holding a stone in its foot. 
IV, V, VI. VII. These stanzas give us good illustra- 
tions of Scott's use of alliteration. Look for 
this characteristic in other passages. 

VI. 11. Saddle- fast. L'nmoved in the saddle though 

wounded nearly to death. 

VII. 9. Kinsman. Deloraine was distantly related to 

the Scotts. 

VIII. S. A book-bosom' d priest. Scott here refers to a 

tradition that priests traveling from place to 
place in the administration of holy offices were 
accustomed to carry the mass-book in their 
bosoms. 

IX. 7-8. Till he smear'd the cover o'tr. etc. Christian 

blood rendered the charm partially ineffective. 

11-12. It had much. etc. It had so much of magic 
power, as could make. etc. 

12-18. Could make a lodge seem a knight, etc. In the 
legends of Scottish superstition the art of 
glamour or fascination, i. e.. the power of 
deceiving the eyesight, finds frequent mention. 

X. 15. So mot I thrive. An oath — so may I prosper. 

XI. 11. Stronger spells. The sorcery of the dwarf was 

counteracted by the "stronger spells' 1 of the 
Ladve. 



NOTES 191 

XIII, 3. The running stream. Scottish superstition 
held as a firm article of faith that a living 
stream destroys the power of magic. A good 
illustration is furnished in Burns's Taut o 
Shanter. 
9. But his awful mother, etc. The dwarf stood in 
awe of the Ladye's superior power. Mother, 
i. e., the child's mother. 

XVII, 7-8. He never counted him a man, etc. By the 
law of arms it was considered dishonorable to 
wound an adversary below the knee. 

XX, 2. So high, as a gallows. 

5. And ever comest, etc. Become of age to lead 

the clan. 
7. My bow of yew, etc. He lays a wager. 

XXII, 2. Had soon dispelVd. Soon w T ould have dis- 

pelled. What question of the reader does 
Scott anticipate when he makes excuse for the 
Ladye in 11. 1-4? 
11-12. But the broken lance, etc. Evidence that his 
antagonist had been of flesh and blood. 

XXIII, 4-10. No longer, etc. A method called "healing 

by sympathy," to which Scottish superstition 
attributed much virtue. 

XXIV, Can you see why this stanza is made one of 
quiet description? 

16. The western star. The planet Venus as seen in 
the west at evening. 

XXV, 4. Shakes its loose tresses, etc. What is the 

effect of the interposition of this striking fig- 
ure, just before the repeated question? 

7. Tighten' d breath. Wherein lies the appropri- 
ateness of the adjective "tightened." 

8. Fire of death. Signal- (fire) of war. 

XXVII, 5-6. On Penchryst, etc. A line of beacon - 
fires, upon the summits of hills and mountains, 
formed unbroken communication between the 
Border and Edinburgh in time of danger. 

9. Mount for Branksome, The gathering-cry of 
the Scotts. 

XXIX, 2. Awaked. Lighted. Slumbering. Half 
extinguished. 

17. Till high Dunedin, etc. The signals were seen 
at Edinburgh. 

19. Regent. The queen-mother, Mary of Q uise, 



192 THE LAY OF THE LAST MINSTREL 

XXX, 8. Deadly shower. An allusion to the ancient 
custom of hurling down missiles from elevated 
places upon an approaching enemy. 

CANTO FOURTH 

I, 8. Upon the Tweed. To join the Tweed. 
9-10. Had heard pastoral, not martial music. 
II, 1. Unlike, etc. Completes a simile suggested by- 
Stanza I. 
4. Its earliest course was doom'd to know. Suf- 
fered or performed by predestination in earlier 
years. 
11-12. Play'd against. Was opposed to. 

III, 12. Southern ravage. The accompaniments of 

Border warfare were the usual atrocities of fire 
and sword intensified by mutual hate and 
remembrance of mutual cruelty. 

IV, 2. Prepare ye all for. Prepare to hear of. 
4. The flood. The stream. 

VI, 5. German. Mercenary soldiers were employed 
by England. 

19. I had him long, etc. I had long had a spite, or 
grudge, against him. 

20. The marauder had driven (away), i. e., stolen, 
his cows. 

VII. The last four lines of this stanza are not in the 
first edition. In what respect are they an 
effective addition to the original? 
VIII, 3-16. "Sir John Scott of Thirlestane flourished in 
the reign of James V., and possessed the estates 
of Thirlestane, Gamescleuch. etc.. lying upon 
the river of Ettrick, and extending to St. Mary's 
Loch, at the head of Yarrow. It appears, that 
when James had assembled his nobility, and 
their feudal followers, at Fa la. with the purpose 
of invading England, and was. as is well 
known, disappointed by the obstinate refusal of 
his peers, this baron alone declared himself 
ready to follow the King wherever he should 
lead.' In memory of his fidelity. James granted 
to his family a charter of arms, entitling them 
to bear a border of fieurs-de-luce. similar to the 
tressure in the royal arms, with a bundle of 
spears for the crest motto 'Beady, aye ready.' ' 
—Sir Walter Scott. 



NOTES 193 

10. What time. At the time when. 

IX, 1-9. An aged Knight. Walter Scott of Harden. 
'The family of Harden are descended from a 
younger son of the Laird of Buccleuch, who 
flourished before the estate of Murdieston was 
acquired by the marriage of one of those chief- 
tains with the heiress, in 1296. Hence they 
bear the cognizance of the Scotts upon the field ; 
whereas those of the Buccleuch are disposed 
upon a bend dexter, assumed in consequence of 
that marriage."— Sir Walter Scott. 

10-15. In the dark glen, etc. Walter of Harden was 
a notorious Border freebooter. 

22-23. Five stately warriors. The five sons of Walter 
Scott of Harden. 
X. The Minstrel, with characteristic desire to 
please, drops the main story in order to tell the 
Ladye how her sires of old came into posses- 
sion of the estates in the valley of the Esk, for- 
merly the property of the Beattison family. In 
Stanzas X, XI, XII Scott tells the traditional cir- 
cumstances with scrupulous exactness of detail. 

22. The Beattison. The Lord of Beattison. 

XI, 7-8. Beshrew thy heart, etc. Place these words in 

the natural order of the English sentence. 

XII, 7. He (Branksome) blew his bngle, etc. 

23. One landed man. See XI, 9-10. 

XIV, 11-16. Compare with this passage, Lady Buc- 

cleuch 's treatment of Margaret, as shown in 
Canto I, Stanza X. What is the Ladye's ruling 
passion? 

XV, 10-11. See note to Canto III, XIII, 3. 

14. Cloth-yard shaft. ' 'This is no poetical exagger- 
ation. In some of the counties of England 
distinguished for archery, shafts of this extra- 
ordinary length were actually used." — Sir 
Walter Scott. 

17. Might not. Could not, being supernatural. 

XVI, XVII, XVIII, XIX. Compare this description of 

the gradual approach of the English army with 
your own sensation while watching the slow, 
steady approach of any great procession or 
parade. Will it bear the test of experience? 

XVII, 2. Loosely. Without observance of rank or 

order. 



194 THE LAY OF THE LAST MINSTREL 

x2. Acre's conquer'd wall. One of Lord Dacre's 
ancestors had participated in the siege of Acre, 
under Richard I. Hence the derivation of the 
name. 
XIX, 8. To gain his spurs. When a youth who was 
a candidate for knighthood had proved his 
valor he was said to have "won his spurs," and 
in the ceremony of investiture they were 
usually bound to his heels by the hand of a 
"fairladye." 

12. Lengthen' d. Drawn up in battle-order. 

XXI, 5. Chasten' d fire. Subdued spirit. 

10. A gauntlet on a spear. The customary emblem 
of faith among the Borderers. 

XXII, 8. Reads. Gives orders that. 

12-13. A graphic threat of sweeping devastation. 
For Cumberland, see map. 

XXV, 5-6. That Ladye's cheer, etc. Her face {cheer 

means countenance) showed a momentary fear. 

XXVI, 4. By oath, etc. In certain cases, a Border 

criminal was allowed to vindicate himself by 
making a solemn oath of innocence. 
10. When English blood, etc. In the battle of 
Ancram Moor, 1545, the English were defeated 
by the Scotch under Douglas, Buccleuch and 
Lesley. 
14. For the young heir, etc. "With reference to the 
young heir, etc. 
XXVIII, 6. Lion. Reference to the arms of the 
Howard family. 
10. Clothe the dun heath, etc. Literally, stand as 
thick as grain in a field. 
15-18. And Jedwood, etc. The great clans of the regions 
mentioned have gathered about the Scottish 
leaders, Douglas, Earl of Angus, and Lord 
Home. 
XXX, 4. The blanche lion. The white lion, i. e., 
Howard. The cognizance of a noble family 
was often used as a designation of the knights 
themselves. 

XXXII, 5. In Musgrave's right. As Musgrave's rep- 
resentative. 

XXXIII, 7-10. And you may guess, etc. It was known 
to her that aid was coming, but she feared to 
admit supernatural knowledge. Again Scott 



NOTES 105 

anticipates the reader's question, and accounts 
for the Ladye's behavior. 

XXXIV, 7. The jovial Harper. "The person here 
alluded to, is one of our ancient Border 
minstrels, called Rattling Roaring Willie. 
This soubriquet was probably derived from his 
bullying disposition; being, it would seem, 
such a roaring boy, as is frequently mentioned 
in old plays. While drinking at Newmill, 
upon Teviot, about five miles above Hawick, 
Willie chanced to quarrel with one of his own 
profession, who was usually distinguished by 
the odd name of Sweet Milk, from a place on 
Rule Water so called. They retired to a 
meadow on the opposite side of the Teviot, to 
decide the contest with their swords, and Sweet 
Milk was killed on the spot. A thorn-tree 
marks the scene of the murder, which is still 
called Sweet Milk Thorn. Willie was taken 
and executed at Jedburgh, bequeathing his 
name to the beautiful Scotch air, called Rat- 
tling Roaring Willie."— Sir Walter Scott. 

10-12. He knew, etc. Allusion to an ancient collec- 
tion of Border regulations. 
13. He. The jovial Harper. 

XXXV, 1-6. See note, XXXIV, 7. 

CANTO FIFTH 

II, 8. A second death. Lone ignored by all except 
the poet, his death consigns them again to 
oblivion. 

IV, 1. Vails not to tell. It is not necessary to name. 
6. The Seven Spears, etc. The seven sons of Sir 
David Home of Wedderburn. 

14-17. Beneath the crest, etc. The ancient houses of 
Hepburn and Home were usually in close 
alliance. The Earls of Home were descendants 
of the Dunbars. The lion rampant was con- 
spicuous in the cognizance of each family, 
hence, "mingled banners." A Home! a Hon/*.' 
=the slogan or war-cry. 
V, 6. Was fa' en. Was appointed. 

VI, 7-23. Border warfare involved but little of the per 
sonal enmity that might have been expected, 
See VII, 12-14. 



196 THE LAY OF THE LAST MINSTREL 



19. Some drove the jolly boid about. The ancient 
game of boivls in which the players rolled a 
large ball of hard wood upon a level greensward. 

X, 12. Banner 'd hosts. From her window Margaret 
could see the armies encamped around the 
castle, each clan distinguished by its peculiar 
cognizance emblazoned on the banner. 

XIII, 1-12. Oft have I mused, etc. The poet antici- 
pates the reader's natural question. Mention 
other instances of like nature. 

XVIII, 16. On peril of his life. To whom does "his" 
refer? 

XIX, 1. Richard of Musgrave was a Knight of Cum- 

berland. His grievance is stated in Canto IV, 
XXIV, 13-14. 
2. Finely born. Of high birth and stainless, line- 
age. 
5. He sayeth. Maintains ; contends. 
XX, 4. Ne'er soiVd his coat. Coat of arms ; escutcheon. 
XXVI, 1-2. She look'd to river, look'd to hill, etc. She 
is reminded of the prophecy of the River and of 
the Fell. 
5-7. Their influence kindly stars, etc. (See Canto I, 
Stanza XVII. ) The prophecy is fulfilled, sooner 
than could have been expected, since but three 
days and three nights are occupied with the 
events of the whole narrative. 

XXVIII, 3. Taught. Informed by some one. 

XXIX, 13. Yet rest thee God! May God give thee rest. 
16. Snaffle, spur and spear. The cognizance of 

clans in Berwickshire. See glossary. 

XXX, 12. Trailing pikes. Homage to the dead warrior. 

INTERLUDE 

15. Southern Land. England. 
19-20. Liked not to hear, etc. His pride is touched. 
21. That. Conjunctive use of the word. 

CANTO SIXTH 

I, 4-6. Whose heart, etc. Scott's own return to his 

native country after ''wandering on a foreign 

strand" in an ineffectual search for health is 

always brought to mind by these lines. 

8. No Minstrel raptures swell. No minstrel sings 

of him with rapture. 
14. Doubly dying. His name dies with his body. 



NOTES 197 

II. 10-11. Seems, as to me, etc. Place these words in 
the natural order of the English sentence. 
III. Observe the strong contrast between the tone 
of this stanza and that of the one preceding ; 
also, the contrast in the situation and condition 
to that described in the Introduction of the 
poem. 
4. Priests of mirth and tear. The minstrels Bang 
of both peace and war. 
V, 6. Forbidden spell. "Popular belief, though con- 
trary to the doctrines of the Church, made ;t 
favourable distinction betwixt magicians and 
necromancers, or wizards; the former were 
supposed to command the evil spirits, and the 
latter to serve, or at least to" be in league and 
compact with, those enemies of mankind." — 
Sir Walter Scott. The Ladye, supposably, is 
one of the former class. See 11. 6-8. 
9. Planetary hour. An hour when the stars are 
favorable for the exercise of necromancy. 

17-18. A merlin sat, etc. The merlin, or sparrow- 
hawk, was often carried by ladies of rank, as 
knights carried falcons. It seems to have been 
a common practice in the sixteenth century to 
bring both hawks and hounds into the churches, 
a custom by some writers condemned as 
indecent. 

VI, 6. Marshall 1 d the rank, etc. Seated the guests in 
due order of rank. 

10-12. The princely peacock's gilded train, etc. The 
peacock after being roasted was served in its 
own plumage. The "boar-head garnish 'd 
brave" was decked with tiny heraldic banners. 
The "cygnet" (swan) was also a favorite 
delicacy in feudal times. 

VII, 18. But bit his glove. kk A pledge of mortal revenge. " 
26. A Cologne blade. Conrad of Wolfenstein was a 

German mercenary. 

VIII, 8-12. Arthur Firethe-Braes; Red Poland For* 

ter, etc. Local personalities for which Scott 
shows a peculiar fondness. Their introduction 
(here and elsewhere) in the poem has received 
the censure of great critics. 
11. To(juit them. To match them; to show equal 
courtesy. 



198 THE LAY OF THE LAST MINSTREL 

13. A deep carouse, etc. A hearty pledge with wine. 
18-19. Since old Buccleuch the name did gain, etc. 
One of the ancestral Scotts was credited with 
prodigious strength, and tradition relates that 
once attending the royal hunting party on foot 
he., single-handed, overpowered" a stag which 
stood at bay, turned the animal upon its back 
bv seizing its horns, and carrying it up a steep 
hill, laid it at the feet of the King. This 
happened in a glen made inaccessible by steep 
rocks and a morass impassable on horseback. 
Hence the name and arms, marks of royal 
favor, — Buck-cleuch (or -glen). 

IX, 8. Hob Armstrong. See note to VIII, 8-12. 

X, 8-11. Well friended, too, etc. "The residence of the 

Graemes being chiefly in the Debateable Land, 
so called because it was claimed by both king- 
doms, their depredations extended both to Eng- 
land and Scotland, with impunity : for as both 
wardens accounted them the proper subjects of 
their own prince, neither inclined to demand 
reparation for their excesses from the opposite 
officers, which would have been an acknowl- 
edgment of his jurisdiction over them." — Sir 
Walter Scott. 

XI, XII. An example of a favorite form of the old Eng- 

lish ballad. It was characterized by closeness 
of structure and condensed thought. 
XI, 2, et. al. The sun shines fair, etc, A verse thus 
recurring in a song is called the "burden." 

XII, 1. She had not tasted well. Scarcelv had tasted. 

XIII, 4 Haughty Henry. Henry VIII. 

XV, 3-4. When Surrey, etc. Surrey was executed on 
Tower-Hill, 15-46, by order of Henry VIII. 
Deathless lay. Enduring song. 

10-12. With Howard still Fitztraver came, etc. The 
Minstrel relates that after the death of Surrey 
his faithful (supposed) bard Fitztraver placed 
himself under the protection of Lord William 
Howard ("Belted Will Howard'"),v>-ardenof the 
West Marches before mentioned. 

XVI-XX. Fitztraver's Song, as compared with that of 
Albert Graeme, is more elegant and artificial. 
It is also more complicated in structure, follow- 
ing the form of the Spenserian stanza, 



NOTES 

XVI, 4. Wise Cornelius. Cornelius Agrippa, a cele- 

brated alchemist and necromancer. The inci- 
dent related in Fitztraver's ballad is said to have 
happened during Surrey's eastern travels. 
8. In life and limb. In lifelike form. 

XVII, 9. Departing. Dying. 

XIX, 8. Line. General name for verse; poetry. 

XX, 3-4. Royal envy. Henry VIII's jealous temper- 

ament could not tolerate near the throne a man 
of Surrey's brilliant accomplishments. Thus, 
"royal envy" brought him to the block. 
8. Gory bridal bed. Of Henry VIII's six unhappy 
wives, two were beheaded. Plunder' d shrine. 
Allusion to the suppression of abbeys and mon- 
asteries in Henry's reign. 

XXI, 13-14. The castle of Kirkwall was built by the St. 

Clairs, Earls of Orkney. 

XXII, 6. The raven's food. The Norse sea-rovers or 

pirates were accustomed to display a raven 
upon their banner. The raven was the scav- 
enger of the battle-field. 

7. Kings of the main. Vikings, or sea-rovers. 

8. Dragons of the wave. Ships, in the florid meta- 
phor of the Scandinavian bards. 

17. Dread Maids. The Valkyrie, supernatural 
warrior-maidens, sent by Odin to choose those 
who were to be slain in battle. 
19-24. Of Chiefs, etc. It was customary to bury with 
Northern warriors their arms and accoutre- 
ments. One who coveted a hero's fame could 
give no greater proof of his prowess than to risk 
a supernatural encounter such as is indicated 
in these lines. 

28. Milder minstrelsy. Roslin castle was in the 
Lothian region, southern Scotland. This would 
account for the "milder minstrelsy" mingled 
with the wild northern strain. 

XXIII, 21. The ring they ride, etc. A game of skill in 

which Knights riding at full speed strove to 
bear away upon the lance a ring which was sus- 
pended above the course in the lists. 
28. The wive will chide, etc. Will not enjoy bis 
wine if Rosabelle be not there to fill the cup. 
25 44. Tradition asserts that the death of members of 
the St. Clair family was heralded by an un 



200 THE LAY OF THE LAST MINSTREL 

natural light which illuminated the castle and 
bathed it with a wondrous ruddy glow. 

34. Uncoffin'd. The burial custom of the St. Clair 
family for many generations. 

39. Foliage-bound. Carved to imitate foliage after 
the Gothic style. 

42. Rose-carved. The frequent appearance of the 
rose among the carvings was in allusion to the 
name Roslin, though its etymology (Boss, a 
promontory; Linnhe, a linn, or waterfall ) 
shows no connection with the flower. 

50. With candle, etc. Part of the burial service 
of the Church of Rome. 
XXVI, 17. The spectre-hound, etc. The Manthe Doog 
or spectre- dog of the Isle of Man. An encounter 
with this unearthly creature was said to be 
attended with unspeakable horrors and followed 
by immediate and awful death. 

XXX, 23-24. Dies tree, dies ilia, etc. The first words 

of the familiar Latin hymn of Thomas of 
Celano. 

XXXI. Scott's translation of the Dies irai is one of a 
countless number. Probably no poem has 
been so often translated as this one. 



GLOSSARY 



Abbaye or abbey. The church of Azure. Blue. (A term of heraldry.) 



a monastery. Canto I. Stanza 
XXXI. Line 6. 

Acton. A padded jacket worn un- 
der a coat of mail. III. VI. 9. 

Acre. See note to IV. XVII. 12. 

Address'd. Prepared, made ready. 
III. XI. 1. 

Agen(o6s.). Again. III. XXXI. 14. 

Agra. Once a large and splendid 
city of Hindostan, from which 
Eastern products w r ere exported. 
VI. XVIII. 8. 

All. Frequently used in this poem 
simply to intensify the expression. 
V. X. 9. 

Almagest. A famous book of as- 
tronomy, compiled by Ptolemy in 
the second century A. D. VI. 
XVII. 7. 

Amice. A pilgrim's robe. VI. 
XXVI. 21. 

Angus. See Douglas. IV. 
XXVIII. 16. 

Anon. Soon. Literally in one (mo- 
ment). Introduction, line 48. 

Archibald, Lord. One of the re- 
mote ancestors of the House of 
Douglas. IV. XXXIV. 11. 

Argent. Silver. (A term of her- 
aldry.) IV. XXIII. 12. 

Arthur's Wain. The constellation 
of stars known familiarly as the 
Little Bear or Ursa Minor. I. 
XVII. 1. 

Ave Mary. Ave Maria (Hail 
Mary), the first words of the 
Roman Catholic prayer to the 
Virgin Mary. II. XX TV. 12. 

A vcntaylc. The visor of a helmet. 
II. III. 9. 



IV. IX. 3. 

Baldric. A broad belt worn over 
one shoulder, across the breast 
and under the opposite arm. VI. 
XXVI. 22. 

Bale. A bundle of beacon-fagots. 

III. XXVII. 5. 

Balm. Balmy. III. XXIV. 4. 

Bandelier. A belt for carrying 
ammunition. III. XXI. 11. 

Ban-dog. A fierce watch-dog usu- 
ally kept chained (banded). Orig- 
inally band-dog. I. XIII. 2. 

Barbed. Accoutred with defensive 
armor; said of a horse. I. V. 5. 

Barbican. An outwork defending 
the entrance to a castle or city. 
I. XXV. 3. 

Bard. See Minstrel. Introduc- 
tion, 7. 

Barded. See barbed. I. XXIX. 5. 

Barnhill. A celebrated outlaw, 
said to have had his stronghold 
on Minto Crags. A certain flat. 
projecting rock, commanding an 
extensive view from these crags, 
is called Barnhiirs Bed. I . X X V 1 1 . 
6. 

Barret-cap. A kind of cap worn 
by soldiers. III. XVI. 13. 

Bartizan. "A small, projecting 
structure for outlook or defense." 

IV. XX. 5. 

Basnet or Bascinct. A light, Open 
helmet. I. XXV. 6. 

BesttiSOn. See Notes, IV. X 
Beaver. The piece of armor Which 

protected the lower part of the 

face V. XXIV. 4. 



201 



202 



GLOSSARY 



Bellenden. A central stronghold 
of the Scotts, " frequently used as 
their place of rendezvous and 
gathering word.'" IV. XIII. 6. 

Belted. A belt was a token or badge 
of knightly rank. IV. VI. 3. 

Bend or Band. In heraldry, a band 
crossing the field of the coat of 
arms diagonally from the upper 
right hand to the lower left. IV. 
IX. 5. 

Beshrew. Curse. IV. XI. 7. 

Bethune or Beatoun. The an- 
cestral family of Lady Buccleuch. 
Their ancient seat was in the 
province of Picardy, France. I. 
XI. 3. 

Better. Stronger, right as opposed 
to left, IV. XXI. 7. 

Bilboa blade. A long, narrow 
sword, so named from Bilbao, a 
town in Spain. V. XVI. 13. 

Bill. Battle-axe, IV. XVIII. 1. 

Billhope stag. Billhope was in 
Liddesdale. According to an old 
ballad " Billhope braes " were 
famous for "bucks and raes. M 
IV. V. 5. 

Bloody Heart. The cognizance of 
the house of Douglas, assumed 
when one of their number received 
from Robert Bruce the solemn 
commission to carry his heart to 
the Holy Land. V. IV. 3. 

Blows. Blooms. II. XXV. 6. 

Bodkin. A small dagger. VI. IX. 
14. 

Borthwick. A branch of the Teviot 
River. IV. IX. 8. 

Bowl. (1) Wine-cup. VI. VI. 19. 
(2) The ball used in the game of 
bowls. V. VI. 19. 

Bowne. To make ready, to pre- 
pare. III. XXIX. 20. 

Brand. (1) A sword. IV. XXII. 5. 
(2) A burning or half-burned piece 
of wood. IV. XXII. 12. 



Branksome Tower. Branxholm 
Castle, the baronial stronghold 
and ancient seat of the Scotts, 
Lords of Buccleuch. It is situated 
on the Teviot Biver near Hawick. 
The name is here spelled Brank- 
some for the sake of euphonj T . I. 
1. 1. 

Buccleuch. See Editor's Introduc- 
tion, pp. 48-9. 

Buff. A kind of dressed leather. 

V. XVI. 8. 

Burden or Burthen. The refrain 
of a song. VI. XXX. 22. Also, 

VI. Epilogue, 29. 

Burn. A small stream. II. 
XXXIII. 14. 

Buttress. A projecting mass of 
masonry generally used to 
strengthen or support an arch. 
II. I. 9. 

By times. Betimes, in good sea- 
son. V. X. 11. 

Caledonia. " The ancient Latin 
name for Scotland. Still used 
poetically." VI. II. 1. 

Can. {Old English.) To know. II. 

VI. 6. 

Career. A rapid course; going on 

horseback at full speed. III. V. 8. 
Carlisle. In Cumberland. (See 

Map.) I. VI. 10. 
Carouse. (1) A revel. (2) A large 

draught of liquor, a pledge. VI. 

VIII. 13. 
Carr (or Kerr). See Note to I. 

VII. 7. 

Carter (The). A mountain on the 

English border. II. XXV. 2. 
Cast, A flight or set of hawks. (A 

term used in falconry. ) IV. XI. 5. 
Certes. Surely, in truth. IV. 

XXX. 8. 
Cessford. The ancestral seat of 

the Carrs. It was situated on the 

Kail Water. I. VIII. 9. 



GLOSSARY 



203 



Champion. A knight who con- 
tended in the lists with those of 
his own rank, in defense of the 
rights or honor of injured ladies 
or children, or for some other 
righteous cause. See M Chivalry " 
in any good encyclopedia. V. 

XVIII. 15. 

Chancel. That part of the church 
reserved for the use of the clergy; 
the part where the altar is placed. 
II. XXII. 10. 

Chapelle. Chapel. VI. XXIII. 46. 

Character. Symbol, figure. (A 
term of magic art.) VI. XVII. 6. 

Chased the day. Made the time 
pass swiftly. V. VI. 20. 

Cheer (n.). This word has, besides 
the ordinary meanings, two spe- 
cial ones. (1) Food, refreshment. 
V. V. 11. (2) Countenance. IV. 
XXV. 5. 

Chivalry. Generally speaking, "the 
spirit, usages, or manners of 
knighthood." As used in the Lay, 
Border Chivalry means Knights 
of the Border, e.g., 4i Rode forth 
Lord Howard's chivalry." IV. 

XIX. 4. 

Clarence. Thomas, Duke of Clar- 
ence, brother to Henry V. V. IV. 

10. (SeeSwiNTON.) 
Claymore. A large two-handled 

sword. V. XXI. 10. 
Clerk. A learned person. I. XT. 2. 
Cloistered. Enclosed, covered ; 

having cloisters, or enclosed walks. 

11. VII. 8. 

Copse-wood. A wood or grove of 
small trees. VT. XXIII. 80. 

Corbcll. A grotesquely formed 
bracket frequently employed in 
Gothic architecture to strengthen 
the spring of an arch. II. IX. 7. 

( ornelius. See Note to V I . XVI. »• 

Corse. Corpse. III. XI. 3. 

Couch (u. ). To lower a spear or 



lance to the position of attack 

I. XXI. 2. 
Counter. The breast of a horso. 

(From the Latin contra, i.e., the 

part opposed to onset or shock.) 

I. XXIX. 5. 
Cranstoun. See Note to I. X. 11-12. 
Crescent and Star. Arms of the 

Scotts of Buccleuch. I. XIX. 10 
Cresset. An open lamp filled with 

combustible material and used as 

a torch. III. XXVI. 8. 
Crossed. Vanquished. IV. XXX 

13. 
Crownlet. A coronet. V. II. 17. 
Culver. A culverin, a small can- 
non. IV. XX. 7. 
Cumberland. An English Border 

county. IV. XXII. 13. (See Map. i 
Cushat-dove. A wood-pigeon. 1 1 

XXXIV. 9. 



Dacre. See Note to IV. XVII. 12. 

Daggled. Wet, draggled. I. XXIX. 
10. 

Dame. A lady of dignity; the mis- 
tress of a family. III. XXXI. 1. 

Dark. Wicked, inspiring fear or 
dread. II. X. 7. 

Darkling. Dark, shadowy. VI. 
IX. 21. 

Dear (adv.). (1) Dearly, cordially, 
from the heart. The Ladye j 
than dear. V. v. 8. (2) - 
CordiaL heartfelt. V. VI. 15. 

Debate (n.). Fight, contest, strife. 
III. IV. 8. 

Deloralne. see Note to I. XX. 6 

Desplteous. Cruel, pitiless. V 
XIX. 4. 

Dlgbt. Arrayed, I. VI. 1. 

Dint. (1) A blow. a stroke. III. VI 

1. (2) Force, power. 11. \ \ | 
Distil. To fall in drops. V. I. & 
Doublet. A close-lilting garnicm 
for men. covering the body from 






GLOSSARY 



the neck to a little below the 

waist, V xt; I 
Douglas. Archibald I 

- Earl of An..- :s ¥ HT. 4. 
Draughts. - now known 

as ::_ t. '. I 

To endure. II ' 
Druid. A pries: of heathen B. 

I XIV | 
Dub. To confer knighthood. T. 

V 1: 

Dundee Great . The " 
Dundee, slain in the bn: 
Killiecrankie while commajsding 
:.:my of James II. IV. IX 10. 

Dnnedm Edinburgh. Anciently, 
Edwinaburgh. I. VII. 10. 

Earn, a Scottish eagle III. 

xx:x i4. 

Ht : ■ Ztony. II. I 

Eburnine. Made of ivory. VI. 
XXX. 6. 

Edward. King. Edward VI. IV. 
XX" B 

Eld. Age. II. XXXI. 1. 

led cloth-measure. 
Hie Scottish ell was about 37 
inches. IV. V 13 

Em prize. Enterprise, undertak- 
ing. IV. XXVI. 1. 

Erst. Previously, formerly. VI. 
XXI. 11. 

Baa _j.de. An assault upon fortifi- 
cations by means of ladders. IV. 
XVIII. 14. 

Ertriek. The Scotts possessed an 
extensive domain in Ettrick For- 
I VIII. 10. 

sweet- 
heart. II. XXVIII. 13. 

Falchion. A broad-bladed. ? 
eon -jrd. I. VII. ll. 

Falcon. An ancient form of can- 
non. IV XX " 

Fantasy. Whim, caprice. V. XIII. 
1" 



Favour. Gift, token. It was cus- 
iry for the knight to wear his 

: v. xix. 9. 

A barren or rocky hill or 
upland. IV. m : Cruel, 

II. 1- A Intense or guanl 

' M 
Flemens- firth. Refer r I 

IV. XX. 
Fleur-de-lys. A conventional fig- 
ure in art. ornament, and heraldry, 
suggested by the iris flowcx, 11 
EX 

Branksome. V : 

s of Yarrow. Mary Eh 
. E - 
•?•:•■: tt 

.^en ilary. IV. EX. ltf. 
Foot-cloth. Housing or caparison 

for a horse. V. XVI : 
For. Notwithstanding, in spite of. 

V. XII. 9. 
Friended, well. Rich in friends. 

VI X - 
Frontlet. Armor for the home's 

head. I. IT. I 
Froujx mead. IV. 

xvni. ii. 

Gain. Learn, gather. V. XXVII. 1. 
Galliard. A gay, active man. IV 

XI. M 
Gamescleugh. One of the estates 
I John Sec : -stane. 

It was situated on I 

:. iv. vi:: . 

Gathering word. The secret word 

passed from lip to lip as the signal 
i cian. IV. 

::. 6. 

Gauntlet. Defensive mail for the 
hand. To throw down or to strike 
with the gauntlet was to offer a 
challenge at arms. IT XXXII. 7. 



GLOSSARY 



205 



Gear, to follow. To put on armor, 
hence to engage in feats of arms. 
V. XXIX. 17. 

Ghostly. Spiritual. V. XXIII. 15. 

Glaive. A kind of sword. IV. 
XIX. 5. 

Glamour. Magical delusion, witch- 
craft. See note to III. IX. 12-18. 

Glee. Music, minstrelsy. Intro. 

I. 73. 

Goblin Page. See note to II. XXXI. 
2. 

Gorget. The neck-plate of a suit of 
armor. V. XXII. 7. 

Gorse. A thorny evergreen shrub 
common In England and Scot- 
land. Also called furze or whin. 

II. XXXI. 12. 

Graeme. Graham. IV. II. 15. 

Gramarye. Magic. VI. XVII. 1. 

Gramercy. (Fr. yrand-merci.) Many 
thanks. III. XX. 1. 

Gratulating. Congratulating, Joy- 
ful greeting. V. XXIV. 6. 

Guarded. Ornamented. VI. V. 16. 

Hackbut-men or hackbuteers. 

Musketeers. IV. VI. 5. 
Hag. The broken ground In a bog. 

IV. V. 4. 

Halrlbee. The place of execution 
of border marauders at Carlisle. 
The "neck-verse" was the begin- 
ning of the 51st Psalm. Miserere 
Dei, etc. It was anciently read by 
criminals claiming the benefit of 
clergy. I. XXIV. 8. 

Halidon. A seat of the Carrs. I. 
XXX. 3. 

Hall. In feudal time3, the chief 
room in a castle or manor-house. 

V. XI. 

Hap. Chance. E.g. Wliat hap had 
proved— what chance had hap- 
pened. V. XXVIII. 12. 

HarneNH. Armor of home or man. 
I. IV. 3. 



Harquebus*. A rude firearm. IV. 

XXIX. 7. 

Haugh. A level plain, low-lying 
country. Found combined with 
names of places. IV. VI. 16. 

Held. Esteemed. IV. VII. 12. 

Hepburn. See note to V. IV. 14-17. 

Heriot. A tribute or gift which a 
feudal superior might claim of a 
vassal. IV. X. 15. 

Hermitage. One of the castles of 
the Douglas family. V. XII. 6. 

Heron-shew. A heron. VI. VI. 9. 

High. Frequently used in the sense 
of powerful, important, exalted, 
lofty. III. XXVI. 3. 

Hlght. Promised. VI. XVI. 7. 

Holyrood. The royal palace of 
Scotland, located at Edinburgh. 
Intro. 81. 

Homage. A part of the feudal 
ceremony of conferring a fief. 
Profession of fealty to a sovereign 
or overlord. IV. X. 14. 

Home. See note to V. IV. 14-17. 

Hooded. Having the her.d and 
eyes covered with a hood. (A 
term used in falconry.) VI. VI. 23. 

Host. The consecrated wafer pre- 
sented in the eucharistic sacra- 
ment of the Roman Church. VI. 

XXX. 6. 

Howard. See Scroop. V. V. 17. 
Hunthlll. The Rutherford* of 

Hunthill were a noted Border 

family. VI. VII. lu. 

Idlesse. Archaic and romantic 
form for idleness,. 1. II. 1. 

Imagery. Smuii'S. II. I. 11. 

Inch. Isle. VI. XXIIL 10. 

Ind. India. VI. XIX. 1 

Inly. Inwardly, secretly. III. 
VI 1 - 

Jack. A coa' of defense, usually 
made of leather. IV. V. 14. 



206 



GLOSSARY 



Jedwood-axe, or Jeddart staff. A 
battle-axe with a long handle or 
staff. I. V. 6. 

Jennet. A small Spanish horse. 
II. VIII. 11. 

Keep. The strongest and most se- 
cure part of a castle; a strong- 
hold. III. XXX. 7. 

Ken (7i.). Sight, vision, view. IV. 
VII. 3. (v.) To discern, recognize, 
hold. IV. XVI. 7. 

Kindling. Burning, flushing. I. 

IX. 16. 

Kirtle. A kind of petticoat or kilt 
used as a part of the dress of 
either sex. II. XXVI. 2. 

Land Dehateable. Border land 
which was for a long time claimed 
by both England and Scotland. 
VI. X, 7. 

Larum. Alarm, summons to arms. 
VI. XXV. 15. 

Lauds. Service of praise in the 
Roman Church. I. XXXI. 8. 

Lay. A ballad or narrative poem, 
sung or recited by a minstrel or 
wandering bard. Intro. 1. 18. 

Leading staff. A wand or lance 
borne as a sign of authority. V. 
XVIII. 7. 

Levin-brand. A stroke of light" 
ning. VI. XXV. 10. 

Liddesdale, Knight of. William 
Douglas, a knight of great valor 
who flourished in the reign of 
David IT. He cruelly murdered 
his friend and brother-in-arms. 
Lord Ramsey, and expiated the 
deed by his own death at the 
hands of his godson. William, 
Earl of Douglas. See Dark. II. 

X. 7. 

Liege. Having authority or claim 

to allegiance. IV. X. 12. 
Linn, or Lin. A waterfall. IV. 

XII. 12. 



List (v.). To desire, to be disposed 

to do a thing, to choose. II. XIII 

6. 
Litherlie. Cunning, mischievous, 

treacherous. II. XXXII. 7. 
Living. In England and Scotland 

a term used to designate the 

estate, income, or benefice of a 

clergyman. II. II. 11. 
Long of. Because of. V. XXIX. 8. 
Lorn. Lost, undone, bereft. I. 

XXIII. 5. 
Lurcher. A mongrel dog of keeu 

scent often used by poachers. 

III. XII. 9. 
Lyke-wake. Death-watch. IV. 

XXVI. 20. 
Lyme-dog. A dog used in hunting 

the wild boar, and led by a learn 

or string. VI. VII. 22. 

Make. To do. IV. XXVIII. 3. 

March-man. Border-man. Ap- 
plied to a person living on the 
border-land or "march M of Eng- 
land and Scotland. I. XXX. 1. 

March-treason. Violation ef a 
border-truce. IV. XXVI. 4. 

Mark. An old coin worth about 
$3.22. V. XXIX. 7. 

Mary (Queen). Mary of Guise, 
mother of Mary Queen of Scots. 
V. XI. 16. 

Matin-prime. Early morning. Spe- 
cifically the first canonical hour of 
the Roman Catholic Church 
(6 a.m.). I. XXI. 12. 

Melrose (Abbey). A once magnifi- 
cent abbey, now in ruins, situated 
on the Tweed river in Roxburgh- 
shire. II. 1. 1. 

Melting. Figuratively used; ten- 
der, pathetic. II. XXIX. 5. 

Merlin. A sparrow-hawk. VI. V. 17. 

Michael. St, Michael. The feast 
of this saint is celebrated on the 
29th of September. II. XI. 13. 



GLOSSARY 



207 



Mlcklc. Much, great. IV. XV. 7. 

Michael Scott. See Scott. 

Minion. A favorite. IV Interlude. 
15. 

Ministry. Care. II. XXXII. 11. 

Miniver A costly fur. VI. IV. 7. 

3Ilnstrel. A bard; a singer and 
harper. "Specifically, in the mid- 
dle ages, the minstrels were a class 
who devoted themselves to the 
amusement of the great in castle 
or camp by singing ballads or 
songs of love and war, sometimes 
of their own composition, with 
accompaniment on the harp, lute 
or other instrument, together with 
suitable mimicry and action, and 
also by story-telling, etc."— Cen- 
tury Diet. Intro. 2. 

Mlnto-crags. A picturesque group 
of cliffs, which rise abruptly from 
Teviotdale. I. XXVII. 5. 

Misprised. Undervalued. V. In- 
terlude. 22. 

Moat-hill (The). One of the many 
ancient mounds found in various 
parts of Scotland. The one men- 
tioned is near Hawick. I. XXV. 9. 

Monmouth. See note to Intro. 37. 

Morion. A kind of open helmet. 
IV. V. 13. 

Morris or Morris-dance. Origi- 
nally a Moorish dance. A favorite 
rustic dance in England and Scot- 
land. I. XV. 5. 

Morsing-horn. A powder-flask. 
IV. XVIII. 12. 

Moss-troopers. Marauders who 
dwelt in the mosses or marshes of 
the borders. IV. IX. 2. 

Mot (obs.) (v.). May. III. X. 15. 

31ulr. A moor. IV. X. 20. 

Naworth. in Cumberland. (See 

Map.) VI. XV. 7. 
Neck-verse. See Haikiiu 

XXIV. 8. 



Need-flre. Beacon. III. XXIX. 2 
Newark (Castle). One of the seats 
of the Buccleuch family. It was 
built by James II. upon the bank 
of the Yarrow near Ettrick Forest 
in Selkirkshire. (See Map.) Intro. 
27. 
Numbers. Poetic measures, i.e., 
lines of verse. VI. XXII. 30. 

Odin. A chief deity of the ancient 
Scandinavians. VI. XXI. 16. 

On row. In a row. IV. XXIX. 7. 

Orcades. The Orkney Islands. VI. 
XXI. 10. 

Otterburne, Chief of. James. Earl 
of Douglas, slain in the desper- 
ate battle of Otterburne, 1388. The 
English leader was Henry Percy 
("Hotspur 1 ';, who was taken pris- 
oner. The Scots were victorious. 
II. X. 0. 

Ousenam. A stream of Teviotdale 
upon which the seat of the Cran- 
stouns was located. V. XI. 10. 

Owches. Jewels. VI. IV. 5. 

Padua. A town in northern Italy, 
long believed to be the location of 
the foremost school of necro- 
mancy. I. XI. 5. 

Pain. Penalty. IV. XXIV. 10. 

Palfrey. A saddle horse, for the 
road or for state occasions, not a 
war-horse. Intro. 13. 

Palmer. One who is devoted to a 
religious life, and wanders from 
shrine to shrine performing sa- 
cred vows. "A Palmer, opposed to 
Pilgrim, was one who made it his 
sole business to visit different 
holy shrines: traveling inces- 
santly,and subsisting by charity; 
whereas the Pilgrim retired to 
his usual home and occupations, 
when he had paid his devotions at 
the particular spot which whs the 



208 



GLOSSARY 



object of his pilgrim age."— Sir 
Walter Scott. II. XIX. 5. 

Partisan. A pike. IV. XX. G. 

Paosing (adj.). Exceeding, surpass- 
ing. IV. V. 11. 

Patter. To mutter, to mumble. 
B.g., To patter an Ave Mary. As 
applied to prayer, probably a cor- 
ruption of Pater Noster, " our 
Father." II. VI. IV. 

Paynini. A heathen, an infidel. 
II. XII. 5. 

Peel. A border town of defense. 
IV. III. 6. 

Pen. A hill-top or summit. III. 
XXV. 1. 

Pensil. A narrow flag or streamer. 
IV. XXVII. 4. 

Percy. See Scroop. I. VI. 8. 

Picardie. SeeBETHUNK. I. XI. 3. 

Pinnet. A pinnacle. VI. XXIII. 11. 

Plain. To complain, to lament. 
IV. XIV. 5. 

Plantagenet. The royal house of 
England descended from Geoffrey 
Plantagenet of Anjou. It began 
with Henry II. and ended with 
Richard III. V. IV. 10. 

Plight (n.). A pledge. VI. XX VII. 
5. 

Poesy. Poetical ease or skill. V. 
Interlude. 20. 

Port. (1) Deportment, carriage, 
manner. VI. XIII. 2. (2) A mar- 
tial piece of music adapted to bag- 
pipes. V. XIV. 2. 

Possess'd. Influenced by an evil 
spirit. III. XXI. 16. 

Postern door. A back door or gate. 
Metaphorically a secret passage. 
II. IX. 1. 

Pricking. The act of riding or guid- 
ing with spurs. IV. VII. 10. 

Psaltery. A kind of stringed in- 
strument of music. VI. VI. 18. 

Ptarmigan. A species of grouse. 
VI. VI. 13. 



Pursuivant. A herald, or one at- 
tending on a herald. IV. XXIII. 

10. Also styled parsuivant-at-arms. 
IV. XXIII. 5. 

Quaint. Strange, unusual. V. 
XII. 10. 

Quatre-feuille (Quarter-foil). An 
ornamental design formed by the 
combination of four lobes or foils. 

11. IX. 6. 

Quit. To acquit, to repay, to re- 
quite. VI. VIII. 11. 

Rade. Old form for rode. II. 
XXXI. 16. 

Ravensheuch. A castle of th* 
Barons of Roslin. It was built 
on an abrupt crag washed bj' the 
Firth of Forth. VI. XXIII. 7. 

Reed. A rustic musical instrument 
made of the hollow stem of somo 
plant. IV. I. 9. 

Rest. A projection from the right 
side of a cuirass serving to sup- 
port the butt of a lance or spear. 
III. IV. 4. 

Right (adv.). Very. III. XV. 7. 

Rood. Emblem of the crucifixion, 
the cross. IV XXVIII. 14. 

Roslin. Seat of the St. Clairs, 
Barons of Roslin. VI. XXMI. 20. 

Roundelay. A song in which there 
is a frequent repetition of a par- 
ticular strain, a round. VI. XIII. 
3. 

Route. (1) Uproar, clamor. V. VI. 
22. (2) In hasty route. In a tu- 
multuous crowd. III. XXVIII. 9. 

Runic. Pertaining to the runes, or 
mysterious characters of the an- 
cient Norse alphabet. VI. XXII. 
11. 

Rushy. In mediaeval times it was 
customary to strew the floor with 
rushes. Hence, the rushy floor. 
I. II. 6. 



GLOSSARY 



209 



Sackcloth. Coarse cloth for making 
sacks. Anciently sackcloth gar- 
ments were worn in penance for 
sin. II. IV. 5. 

Sacristy. A place for keeping the 
aacred vessels and vestments of 
the church. VI. XXIII. 38. 

Saga. A Norse legend, or heroic 
tale. VI. XXII. 14. 

St. George's Red Cross. The Eng- 
lish banner. St. George is the 
patron saint of England. I. VI. 5. 

St. Mary's. St. Mary's Loch at the 
head of the Yarrow. II. XXXIII. 
16. 

Salamanca's Cave. '• ' Spain, from 
the relics, doubtless, of Arabian 
learning and superstition, was ac- 
counted a favorite residence of 
magicians. Pope Sylvester, who 
actually imported from Spain the 
use of the Arabian numerals, was 
supposed to have learned there 
the magic, for which he was stig- 
matized by the ignorance of his 
age.' William of Malmsbury, lib. 
il. cap. 10. ' There were public 
schools, where magic, or rather 
the sciences supposed to involve 
its mysteries, were regularly 
taught, at Toledo, Seville, and 
Salamanca. In the latter city, 
they were held in a deep cavern; 
the mouth of which was walled 
up by Queen Isabella, wife of 
King Ferdinand.'— jy Auton on 
Learned Incredulity, p. 45. ''—Sir 
Walter Scott. II. XIII. 4. 
Sayc. A word, a statement. VI. 

Yll lo. 
Scald. A Norse poet or bard. VI. 

XXII. 1U. 
Scathe (n). Injury, hurt. V. XIX. 4. 
Scaur (skar). A steep bank or 

rock. I. XII. 10. 
Scott, Michael. "Sir Michael 8 

Balwearle flourished during the 



13th century, and was one of the 
ambassadors sent to bring the 
Maid of Norway to 8cotlan<] 
upon the death of Alexander III. 
By a poetical anachronism, he is 
here placed in a later era. He 
was a man of much learning, 
chiefly acquired in foreign coun- 
tries. He wrote a commentary 
upon Aristotle, printed at Venice 
in 1496; and several treatises upon 
natural philosophy, from which 
he appears to have been addicte-1 
to the abstruse studies of judicial 
astronomy, alchemy, physiog- 
nomy, and chiromancy. Hence 
he passed among his contem- 
poraries for a skilful magician. 
Dempster Informs us, that he re- 
members to have heard in his 
youth, that the magic books of 
Michael Scott were still in exist- 
ence, but could not be opened 
without danger, on account oi* tl.«' 
malignant fiends who were 
thereby invoked.'"- Sir Walter 
Scott. II. XIII. 2. 

Scroop, Howard and Percy. 
Wardens of the English Marches 
or border-lands. I. VI. 8. 

Scutcheon (escutcheon >. A shield, 
ornamented with armorial figures. 

II. X. 1 

Seignory. Dominion, the author- 
ity of a feudal lord. IV. X 
14. 

Selle. Hall; a spacious and elegant 
apartment. VI. V III. 6. 

Seneschal. The steward or chief 
domestic Officer Ot a noble bouse. 

III. XXVII. 1 

Sewer. One whose duty was to 
serve the gueMs at a feast. VI. 
VI. 29. 

shade. (I) A forest. IV. Vl l : 
V spirit, a ghost. V . 1 1 I, 

Shalm i or shawm*. A wind hiMru- 



210 



GLOSSARY 



ment resembling the clarinet. VI. 
VI. 18. 

Sheeling. A shepherd's hut. III. 
IX. 16. 

Shrift. Confession of sins to a 
priest. III. VII. 13. 

Slashed. Long, narrow cuts or 
slashes were made in a garment 
in order to show the rich lining 
to better advantage. V. XVI. 
9. 

Slogan. The war-cry of a border- 
clan. I. VII. 12. 

Sooth. Truth. IV. Interlude. 17. 

Soothly. Truly. Soothly swear = 
truly say. II. 1. 17. 

Southron. One dwelling in the 
south. A name common in Scot- 
land for any Englishman. III. 
XIX. 4. 

Span. About nine inches, or the 
distance from the end of the 
thumb to the end of the little 
finger when extended. III. XVII. 
5. 

Spell. A magic formula of words, 
an incantation, an enchantment. 
II. XXII. 14. 

Sprite. A spirit. VI. V. 8. 

Spurn. When used of a horse, it = 
to kick or toss up the heels. V. 
IV. 5. 

Stark. Strong, thorough. I. XXI. 1. 

Stole (n.). An embroidered band 
which forms an important part of 
a priest's vestments. It is worn 
about the neck, the ends falling 
toward the feet in front. V. 
XXX. 9. 

Strain. (1) A musical period or 
sentence. Also a song or other 
poetical composition. VI. XXX. 
26. (2) Descent, lineage. E.g., 
Of noble strain. V. XX. 2. 

Streamers. A stream or column of 
light shooting upward from the 
horizon, constituting one of the 



forms of the aurora borealis. II. 
VIII. 7. 

Surrey. Henry Howard, Earl of 
Surrey, a distinguished cavalier 
and poet. He was one of the first 
of those who introduced the son- 
net stanza into England. VI. 
XIII. 7. 

Swain. A country gallant or lover. 
I. XXVII. 15. 

Swinton. An ancient Scottish fam- 
ily. At the battle of Beauge', in 
France, Sir John Swinton un- 
horsed the Duke of Clarence, 
brother of Henry V., having recog- 
nized him by the coronet of pre- 
cious stones which the duke wore 
around his helmet. V. IV. 8-10. 

Swith. Quick, speedy. IV. XXII. 



Tarn. A mountain lake. III. 
XXIX. 13. 

Thanedom. The estate of a thane. 
Thane is a title anciently used to 
designate the rank of baron. V. 

II. 20. 

Thirlestane. Sir John Scott of 
Thirl estane. His estates were 
situated on the Ettrick river. 
See note. IV. VIII. 3 ff. 

Throstle. The song-thrush. VI. 
Epilogue. 18. 

Tide. Time, period. VI. IV. 1. 

Tire. A woman's head-dress. III. 
XXI. 9. 

Tracery. In Gothic architecture, 
ornamental work with ramified 
(branching) lines. II. XI. 3. 

Train (v.). To allure, to entice. 

III. XII. 3. 

Trencher. A wooden plate or plat- 
ter. VI. IX. 11. 

Tressured. Having an ornamental 
border. IV. VIII. 5. 

Trophied. Hung with trophies. VI. 
XXV. 7. 



GLOSSARY 



211 



Trow. To believe or trust. I. V. 5. 

Trump. Sound of a trumpet. VI. 
XXXI. 8. 

Truncheon. A short staff, the 
shaft of a spear. I. XIX. 6. 

Tryst. An appointment. Trysting 
place. A place appointed for meet- 
ing or assembling. II. XXXIII. 9. 

Uneath. Scarcely, not easily. VI. 
XXIX. 4. 

Unicorn. Arms of the Carrs of Cess- 
ford. I. XIX. 15. 

Vails. Avails. V. IV. 1. 
Vassalage. A body of vassals or 

retainers. V. XII. 9. 
Velez. Velez Malaga, a Spanish 

town. II. Interlude, 6. 
Vllde. Vile. III. XIII. 5. 

Wain. A wagon. III. XI. 8. 

Warden. A keeper or guardian. 
In border-times, the holder of a 
small frontier castle. IV. XXII. 1. 

Warden-raid. An inroad com- 
manded by the warden in person. 
IV. IV. 14. 

Warkworth. In Northumberland. 
See map. I. VI. 10. 

Warrison. The signal for assault. 
IV. XXIV. 19. 

Wassel. Wassail, a carouse, a fes- 
tive occasion. V. VIII. 1. 

Water Sprite. See note to I. XIV. 
7-8. 

Wat of Harden. See Editor's In- 
troduction, p. 9. Also II. XXXIII. 
10. 

Watt Tinlinn. A retainer of the 
Buccleuch family and an archer 



of much prowess in Border war- 
fare. IV. IV. 3. 

Weapon-schaw. Armed force. IV. 
XXVIII. 8. 

Ween. To think, to imagine. III. 

III. 1. 

Welladay! Alas! Corrupted from 
wellaway. Intro. 9. 

While (The). During tbe time that. 
II. I. 15. 

Whinger. A knife or poniard. V. 
VII. 9. 

Wight (n.). A creature: used 
humorously to designate an un- 
lucky or blundering person. I. I. 
6. (adj.). Active, strong. IV. 
XXVI. 11. 

Wimple. Folds of linen formerly 
worn by women as an out-door 
protection for the neck and chin. 
V. XVII. 4. 

Wind. (1) To sound (a horn) by 
blowing. IV. XI. 25. (2) To flow 
in a winding channel, as a river. 

IV. I. 5. (3) Wind, to follow 
game by the scent. V. XXIX. 19. 

Withal (prep.). With (placed 
after the object). III. Interlude. 
11. (adv.). Likewise, at the same 
time. VI. XXV. 16. 

Yeoman. In England, a free born 
citizen of the first or highest class 
among the common people, the 
class just below thegeutry. I. III. 
5. 

Yew. A kind of evergreen tree from 
whose wood bows were made. The 
yew, meaning the bow made of 
yew. VI. IX. 2. 

Yoke. The symbol of bondage or 
servitude. IV. XI. 4. 



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